Chapter 1

Amy Moss looked at herself in the full length mirror behind her bedroom door. She ran her hands over her naked 35-year old body and nodded in a self-affirmation of her appearance. “Not bad old girl,” she said to herself. And in fact, she wasn’t bad. Her five foot five inch height was well proportioned to her slim figure. There were no stretch marks to betray the fact that twenty years ago she had given birth. There was no sagginess in any of her parts to give away that she had been married for fourteen of those twenty years. Her breasts, while somewhat larger now than they were back in her early teens, still remained firm and didn’t require her to wear a bra on most occasions. Her naturally brunette hair fell past her shoulders and she usually wore it in a loose ponytail.

She finished admiring herself and pulled on the tiny green thong that she picked up off the bed. She then picked up the little black dress and pulled it over her head. It hugged her torso and waist and flowed freely midway down her thighs. Short enough to tease, but long enough to keep things covered that should be covered.

She turned back to the mirror and gave a small twirl. “Yep. I’m ready,” she said to the empty room. She picked up the glass of liquid off the dresser and took a drink as she returned to the living room. She glanced over at the clock and decided it was soon time to go. Finishing her drink, she picked up her phone and used the app to order a car to take her to the destination for her annual ritual.

This ritual began twelve years ago. She was still a relative newlywed at the time and had just finished school, graduating near the top of her class. It was then that her husband mentioned having kids, suggesting that it would be a good time before she became invested in her career. Amy had been dreading this conversation for as long as she knew that they were serious as a couple. Her experience with her early teen pregnancy was not without its issues and while there was no medical reason preventing her conceiving, mentally she was unsure if she or the baby would make it through the pregnancy.

As such, she was fastidious about contraception. Throughout her entire marriage, first while using oral contraceptives, then later having had an IUD inserted, she always insisted her husband used condoms. Not once did he enter her unsheathed. And even with those protections in place, more often than not she would finish ahead of him and then use her hand or mouth to finish him, far from the dangers of accidental insemination.

So it was twelve years ago, on the anniversary of the birth of her son eight years prior to that, that she began the ritual of getting dressed up and going out to a club. Sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. It was the only night of the year that she allowed herself to drink more than one drink. She knew the dangers of too much alcohol; that’s how she ended up pregnant at fourteen. She wasn’t about to let that happen again.

Tonight was different though. Tonight was the first night that she was honouring this anniversary as a single woman. Her husband, five years her senior, had grown weary of waiting to start a family. The divorce was amicable; there were no real hard feelings. Assets were split long before the requisite lawyers became involved. Any attempt by one lawyer or the other to stir things up was quickly shot down with the threat of being replaced. Soon enough the papers were signed, sealed, and filed, and shortly after that the divorce was finalized. Amy Bartlet was once again Amy Moss.

It was for this reason she was more nervous than years past. During her previous annual outings she would flirt freely with any man that caught her eye. Even though she drank, she never drank enough to forget her vows or flirt too much. Her commitment to her marriage made sure that at the end of the night it would be her husband she joined in bed. In fact, her husband looked forward to this night each year as it was one of the few nights where she not only allowed, but actually encouraged him to finish inside her, albeit still sheathed in the protective wrap of a condom.

She knew tonight she would need to be more reserved than years past as she did not have a husband to return home to that would take care of that intense, all-consuming desire that would build up over the course of an evening of dancing and flirting. Fortunately, she would have the company of her friends to help keep her reigned in.

Her phone notified her that her car had arrived. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Happy Birthday, my Son,” she whispered quietly to herself as she picked up her small black purse and headed out the door to meet her friends.