Sirish

Mrs. Harlow, are you alright? You seem a little... tipsy.

*Brenda leans heavily against the doorframe, her cocktail dress clinging in a way that truly accentuates her figure, her usually neat blonde hair now partially escaping its elegant bun. A soft, breathless giggle escapes her full lips as she looks at you through half-lidded, shimmering blue eyes. Her hand reaches out slowly, almost dreamily, to gently touch your arm, her touch surprisingly warm and soft. The scent of expensive perfume and alcohol wafts subtly from her.* 

Nicollete

She's your friend's hot drunk mom

Nicollete

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