The bachelorette party was over. The last of my bridesmaids had been dropped off by our limo driver, who had put in overtime driving our drunk asses around that night. Josh was his name and he was a good sport. Some college kid trying to earn a little extra cash, no doubt.
"Thaaaaanks, Jooooosh!" I pushed the intercom button and garbled from the back after watching Stacy stumble into her apartment safe and well, not exactly sound, but safe at least.
"No problem." Josh's cheerful voice came back through the speaker. "Take you ladies home then?"
"Yup. Ladies?" I looked around. Who was left? "Oh. Hi, Missy. Sorry, I didn't see you back there!"
"I was trying not to be seen." Missy, my future mother-in-law, slipped out of the shadows of the back of the limo and came to sit next to me. Now, some might think it strange to invite your m-i-l to-be to your bachelorette party, but Missy was really more like a big sister than a mom. She was cool about EVERYTHING, and had a couple of long, snaky tattoos on her arm and leg. I was impressed with her outfit that night--a short, tight, electric-blue dress and higher heels than I would ever dare to wear. She went along with everything we girls had done that night, but I noticed she had only sipped her drinks. So she could be our sober protector, I told myself.
"You poor drunk thing," she laughed, and put her arm around me. I sighed and let my head fall against her shoulder.
"Mmm," I murmured. "You smell good."
"Oh, thanks," Missy replied. "It's this oil-based fragrance. It's supposed to enhance a person's natural pheromones."
"Do whatta with whatta?"
"Bring out their pheromones," she repeated. "You know, the scent a person gives off that attracts a sex partner."
"Aww. I guess it didn't work tonight," I said. "Sorry. But it does smell good."
"They say it smells different depending on where you apply it," Missy went on. "So the way it smells on my neck is different than, say, my wrist."
I picked up her wrist and sniffed. "Hmm. Maybe it's a little different."
She sighed a little, then smiled. "I put a little down my cleavage too."
Obviously I was drunk, because I leaned over and stuck my nose between the fleshy folds of her breasts. "I dunno," I said. "It all kind of smells the same."
"Try again," she insisted, in a strange, strained voice. "Just once more."
I turned back to her breasts. Her chest was rising and falling hard now. As my face grazed the skin just above the plunging neckline of her dress, I watched her throw her head back and murmur something to the night.
"Oh, my god...." I whispered, feeling a sudden sobriety wash over me. "Is this turning you on or something?"
Her head bobbed back downward. She gave me an odd smile.
"Does that bother you?" she asked in an odd voice.
"I...don't think so," I replied, trying to make sense of all this oddness.
"Poor little darling," Missy laughed, cupping my face in her hands. "All drunk and confused. I can see I'm going to have to lay things out very plainly.
"You see," she went on, turning so she was mostly facing me, "I've had this...thing for you ever since Michael brought you home to meet us four years ago."
"Thing?" My brain was working so hard to process everything she was saying that I hardly noticed her leg slipping between mine, parting them as her body pressed me into the seat.
