"Same time next Tuesday?" Elena murmured from the rug, her eyes half-closed.
"And that your couch is the new VIP lounge," Jules added, brandishing a half-empty bottle of artisanal gin like a trophy. drunken mature women
The doorbell chimed with a rhythmic, slightly off-beat persistence. When Martha opened it, she was met with a chorus of giggles and the unmistakable, sweet-tart scent of cheap margaritas. "Same time next Tuesday