Encore

A quiet night kept her attention as she travelled home from work. Karen Tracey, a woman of many talents, had veered off from her expected life of success in recent years. A long winded divorce could be blamed. But why feel deflated when she was rarely happy with him? A marriage born from obligation instead of love. The whole neighbourhood was shocked when little Karen Tracey, the introvert, revealed herself to be pregnant at the age of 19.

The night of conception was nothing special. A blood shot eyed Karen would be seen walking towards the local shop to meet with her friend Cal. They were more friends of convenience, as neither was particularly outgoing or aesthetically pleasing. A random night of drinking lead to casual sex between the two. Whether they had prior experience is irrelevant, as that was the night her son, Joe, was conceived.

She had taken a job in a local café to pay the bills after the divorce. She didn't mind it. Despite being capable of a lot more, she never had big aspirations or plans of grandeur. As long as she could afford Internet and satellite TV she was happy. To revisit statement made above, you could say that Karen did have one aspiration: To prevent Joe from making the same mistakes she made in her youth. Of course you'd never catch her labelling her son as a mistake, but it would be a lie if she said she didn't constantly fantasise over what could have been.

This night, she was on her way home from her regular night shift. It had become a nice routine for her that summer. She would arrive home at 12:30am, providing there was no traffic, and would be greeted by her son.

"Sprawled out on the couch, as always!" she said, as she placed her keys on the hall table.

"Only the best welcomes for you, Mom." was the lazy reply as Joe's eyes stayed glued to the TV.

As the one adult in the house worked in a café, it's not a surprise that the building itself was unimpressive. The kitchen and TV room were linked, meaning the kitchen table had a decent view of whatever Joe was watching that night.

Karen yawned as she took a seat. Her waitress outfit hiked up in this position, showing off her aging legs. No longer did they have the natural, youthful shine to go with their good shape. Apparently waiting tables is enough exercise to keep a 39 year old in adequate shape. She didn't put much effort in outside of this. Men weren't much of a concern to her these days. Not to mention the fact that she was just never that in to sex. Even when they were married, sex between her and her ex was uncommon. When it did happen it was usually under similar circumstances to the night of Joe's conception. Alcohol was a good way to get her sex drive going. But nowadays she only afforded herself the luxury of one or two glasses of wine a night.

"Anything good on?" She asked, sipping on her wine glass.

"Believe it or not, there's a special on in 20 minutes about Arsenal." He could barely contain his smile as he replied.

Arsenal football club. Karen's one true love in this world. They both sat on the couch throughout the special showing. 2 hours of goals, interviews and scenic shots of the stadium on match day.

"Oh Joe, I wish you could've been there. Bergkamp receiving the ball with his back to goal, flicks it around that Greek Newcastle defender and slots it home. Arguably a foul from the Flying Dutchman, but luckily we don't make those decisions!" She said loudly, clinching on to a near empty wine bottle as if it were the leaguer trophy. A second trophy lay empty next to the couch.

Joe checked his watch and realised he had been sitting on the couch for a grand total of 6 hours.

*I could do with a wank* he thought. He rose to go to his room, which didn't look odd at all given that it was nearly 3am.

"Ooohhh are you off, Joe? Your 1 glass of wine gone to the head?" Karen teased, despite knowing full well that he had at least 5.

She decided that she may as well go to bed too. Maybe she'll avoid a headache in the morning with a good sleep. She stumbled to her room and shouted goodnight through Joe's shut door. Their rooms were situated next to each other, so a goodnight call was usually a nighty occurrence. She undid her shirt as her loosened skirt fell to the floor. An attempted leg flick of elegance, more resembling Bambi on ice, sent the skirt to the other end of the room. She dropped backwards on to her bed, quickly realising that she had forgotten to put on her fan. As it wasn't too warm tonight, she decided that she may survive this one time without it.

She lay with her legs hanging off the bed, deep in thought about Arsenal. She then began to hear a repetitive noise coming from the next room. A 'clap clap clap' growing in speed. Stumbling off her bed, she tip toed to her bedroom door and quietly turned the knob. She giggled as she edged closer to Joe's bedroom door.

*Is he really doing what I think he is doing?*

She bent down and peered through the key hole of his door. Her mouth crunched up to one side as she discovered that only his feet, clenched toes included, were visible. Finding the situation hilarious in her drunken state, she quickly ran through ways to make this awkward for her son. Eventually deciding on the unoriginal 'storm in to room' method, she ensured that her unbuttoned shirt showed off enough off her cleavage to maximise his discomfort. Deeming her cleavage worthy, she quickly opened the door and called his name. He shuffled quickly as she flicked on the lightswitch.

*Impressive that he managed to get his boxers on, to be fair.* she thought.

She amplified her drunk act and walked towards him. She noticed a tent in his boxers as she suppressed a giggle. He quickly covered this up in an obvious way.

"I forgot to give you a goodnight kiss!" She moaned as her lips touched off his cheek. Needing to bend over to reach him, she had placed her hand in the general area of the tent. Her hand was firmly pinning down his penis as she planted the kiss. His face was priceless and his eyes were wandering.

"Goodnight, Joe.." She whispered as she walked away. Her ass covered only by her black underwear.

She returned to her room and put on her fan. As she drifted off to sleep, she was certain she could hear a clapping from unnoticed spectators in Joe's room.

*Perhaps they're applauding for an encore*