As they were finishing, Donna came into the kitchen. She was bowlegged and moving stiffly as she more fell than sat on a chair. “Coffee, por favor, ...“ she mumbled in Maria’s direction.Then she turned to Lisa and glared, “It’s all your fault, you little bitch!”“What did I do, Mommy?” Her response sounded phony and was.“Two things,” Donna replied with a sigh and then a moan. “First, you nasty girl, I clearly heard you tell our new friends that Dad was going to fuck my brains out. And that’s. I honestly don't expect him to still be there when I get out, but he is, and he's showered, too (but not put on a shirt, ha!) and we go back to his place.He has two roomates, who, well, play a smaller role in this story. I'll call them Michael and Tim. Michael and Andre share a room, and Tim, who is white, has a room to himself. There's also a common room, kitchen, etc.So anyway, Tim has made up some sangria and we eat the steaks and we're drinking, and the conversation, as it sometimes does. More

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