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.
As the night wound down and the laughter softened into a warm, sleepy glow, Martha looked at her friends. Their makeup was a little smudged, their hair a bit wild, but they looked more beautiful to her than they ever had at twenty. They were seasoned, spirited, and perfectly, unashamedly themselves. drunken mature women
"And that your couch is the new VIP lounge," Jules added, brandishing a half-empty bottle of artisanal gin like a trophy. The doorbell chimed with a rhythmic, slightly off-beat
"We decided," Sarah announced, swaying slightly and leaning heavily against the doorframe, "that Tuesday is the new Saturday." Their makeup was a little smudged, their hair
"The best part of being a 'woman of a certain age,'" Jules said, pouring a splash of gin into a glass of tonic Martha had provided, "is that the 'certain' part means we finally know exactly who we are. And who we are tonight is a group of friends who deserve a drink and a laugh."