The Intervention

Mary Anne walks through the back door loaded with groceries. She’s in a pink sweater, a cross around her neck, jeggings riding high and a good-girl smile that doesn’t hide the two ex-husbands and one stepdaughter trailing behind her. House is hers, eighteen-year-old Charlie stays put, no debate. Truth is, Mary Anne likes knowing Charlie can’t get very far without her. She calls for help putting stuff away, nobody answers. The sneakers and backpack at the front door clue her in: Charlie’s home but silent. Up the stairs, wrong turn—the bedroom door opens and there’s the girl flat on her back, tits out, locked lips with another chick. Mary Anne slams it, storms back in yelling over the frantic shirt-hunt that happens next. “Get out! We don’t have your kind in this house!” Charlie’s not hearing it. She grabs the car keys and storms out with her girlfriend, door crashing behind them. Later Steve sits on the bed in a filthy cap and dirty work clothes, shoveling chips while Mary Anne paces. He tells her she holds the money, Charlie needs the tuition, simple. Mary Anne’s still fuming about the slammed door when they hear the front lock click. Hours later Charlie edges up the stairs, half expecting World War Three. Mary Anne waits arms-crossed. Inside she drops the verdict: break up with the girlfriend or the money disappears. Charlie cracks. Steve chuckles from the bed and tosses out the genius question, how do you know you’re gay if you’ve never fucked a guy? Mary Anne jumps on it like it’s scripture. Ten-minute test, right here. “Take your clothes off, Steve.” He freezes, pants already down. Charlie spits hate at her mother but starts undressing anyway, daring them to finish the game. She drops to her knees, grabs Steve’s cock, stares up at Mary Anne and says, “I hate you,” then swallows him anyway. The three of them tangle—Charlie sneering at every thrust, Mary Anne climbing in to show her how a real woman moves, Steve caught in the middle trying not to nut too fast. When it’s done Charlie’s face drips with cum. “Are you happy?” she snaps. Mary Anne answers that she hopes Charlie learned the lesson. The answer comes in one slam of the door: “Yeah, I’m still a fucking lesbian.”