CLEMENTINE

Tiffany poured another one in the parking lot before we even made it inside. Two trailer-park MILFs in cheap perfume and worse intentions. I told her we were not going out to be polite. We were going out to talk about incest phone sex and a man named Anthony who cannot stop thinking about Jeanne Catherine Cunt LaMonica.

The first mommy we cornered at the bar thought we were joking. I was not. I leaned in with my big tits on the sticky wood and told her exactly what Anthony likes. How he gets hard talking family. How he says Jeanne Catherine Cunt LaMonica like a prayer and a threat. Tiffany laughed that mean little laugh and filled in the rest. Incest phone sex is not a rumor when two drunk MILFs are willing to demonstrate the vocabulary.

We did not keep it at one table. We worked the room. Every mommy who would listen got the same sermon. Anthony is an incest crazed pervert. He wants mothers talking like sisters. He wants names that should stay in a locked drawer said out loud over a drink. Jeanne Catherine Cunt LaMonica is the name that makes him stupid. We said it until the bartenders started looking over.

We used his obsession like bait.

By the second bar the story had grown teeth. Tiffany told a blonde in a denim jacket how we used Anthony’s obsession like bait. How incest phone sex sounds academic until you watch a grown woman get wet hearing another grown woman talk about family filth she is not supposed to want. No limits once the ice melts. Anything goes if the mommy stays in her seat.

I described the calls. Me on the line. Tiffany on speaker. Anthony panting while we compared notes on Jeanne Catherine Cunt LaMonica like she was a local legend and a body. Trailer trash does not whisper. We said cunt. We said mommy. We said he would ruin a family reunion if you let him near the punch.

A redhead in the bathroom asked if it was real. I showed her my phone. That is when the night turned. We were not just gossiping. We were recruiting. Incest phone sex as a contagion. One MILF tells another. The other tells her girlfriend. By last call half the room was laughing too loud and touching their necks.

Tiffany and I kept going. We told them how Anthony’s demented little obsession had trained us. How we could walk into any bar and turn respectable mommies into incest crazed whores just by saying the right filthy name. Jeanne Catherine Cunt LaMonica. Watch the faces change. Watch the drinks get finished faster.

We did not leave anyone clean. We left them with the number and the dare. Call. Ask for Clemmy. Ask what Anthony taught us. Incest phone sex is a group project now.

I came home still smelling like smoke and other women’s perfume. Tiffany crashed on my couch. I thought about the redhead and the blonde and the way they said that name back to us like they already owned it.

If Anthony wants the field report he can listen to the recording in his head. The rest of you can find me at thesincenter.com/clementine