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The majority of today’s men and women live in boring circumstances, and when the opportunity for change arises, they are often quick to seize the chance. For the characters in this story, the opportunity is one which many would consider perverse and deranged. But it provides a release and a need. All morals and scruples are cast aside in a moment of madness — a chance to grab pleasure before it is taken away.
WILD HOT MOTHER — a novel about the quiet desperation in so many of us — and the extremes to which it may drive us.
“This apartment’s much too large now that my husband’s gone,” Martha Blumfeldt told the young widow. “I suppose that’s why you sold your house?”
Ann nodded. “Yes. I tried to keep it up but every year it got a little harder. And with everything so expensive now…”
“I know,” the old woman agreed. “I need the extra money the rent will bring in just to live as comfortably as I did a few years ago.”
Ann was five feet, four inches tall and weighed just a fraction over one hundred and five pounds. The way those pounds were distributed would have turned Dolly Parton green with envy, as her husband used to say before they went to bed. His insurance had left Ann comfortable, if not wealthy, and even provided for Bob’s future. But life still seemed, except for her son, almost purposeless. Ann knew she was lonely, but she didn’t know exactly what to do about it. And that was when her drinking began to increase.
She also began confiding in Martha more and more as the months passed. Living with another woman in such a large place had, surprisingly, presented no problems at all. There were two bathrooms, and more than, enough closets, and enough rooms for privacy. The kitchen was the only room the two women shred, and they often alternated the daily cooking and shopping. There were even neighborhood children for Bob to play with.
Martha Blumfeldt was forty-one, a widow for the past six years. There hadn’t been one night in all those years that she hadn’t missed the passionate nights she had once enjoyed. And now, knowing that Ann was sleep and not far away, made every night more of a torment.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.