I laugh at her. “Forget the straw. Just drink it like a beer.” I hand her my glass of wine and get up to grab another one, and she hands me back my empty glass even before I take a step. “Don’t judge me, okay? Michael walked in on Max and me.” Karrie rolls her lips, and Zara laughs while Zoe hits her leg. “It isn’t funny. He walked in while I was on my hands and knees.”

“Oh my God,” I say, putting a hand to my mouth “Doggy style? Were you facing the door or was it from the side?”

“What difference does that make?” Karrie hisses.

“Well, if she is facing the door, he walked in on her tits going nuts. If it’s by the side, at least she’s semi-covered.” I lift my hands.

“It is even worse than that,” Allison says. “Max’s back was facing the door, so I’m sure all he saw was him thrusting into me while I begged him for more.” Zoe now laughs out loud. “It might get worse.”

“I don’t think it can get worse than that,” Karrie says.

“I told him to put his thumb back in,” Allison says, her face going red, and she covers it with her hands.

“See,” I say, pointing at her. “Ass play.”

“When did you realize that your son was there and that he would need therapy?” Zara asks.

“When the door slammed,” she says softly. “I went to see him, and he was crying in his bed.” She puts her hand on her chest, and now Karrie hands her, her wine glass. She gulps it down right away. “He was crying, and then he asked me, ‘What was Daddy doing to you?’”

“Plowing you.” I point at her. “Good, I hope.” Karrie slaps my leg. “What?”

“I told him that he was rubbing my back.” Now we all throw our heads back and laugh. “It’s not funny. What if he tells people?”

“You have sex,” I tell her. “I think everyone knows this.”

“I might die. I swear to God, imagine if he tells his teacher,” Allison says.

“Then you should not have Max go to the school. Bitches will pounce on that. Hockey players are the way to go,” Zara says and then looks over at Zoe. “In case you want to have sex with one.”

“I don’t bang hockey players,” Zoe tells Zara. “Unlike someone I know.”

“Please,” I say to them. “I’m still so thirsty, you have no idea. It’s like I’m a camel in the desert. Dry. Sèche ,” I say, using the French word for dry. “I swear, I went to the gyno the other day, and he had to use extra lube.”

“Dryness comes with age,” Karrie says, and I gasp in shock offended.