Bitters and Brandy

Bitters and Brandy

        It was that time of night again. It was about ten o'clock Eastern and Rose Lalonde was readying herself for bed. She stood in her bathroom, brushing her teeth. She stood on a small stool that was reminiscent of her younger years. Rose didn't particularly require the stool to adequately view herself in the mirror, but she still elected to use it because it made her feel just a little bit taller, a little bit older.
        She spat out the slurry of toothpaste and saliva and admired herself in the mirror. She was clad in a light pink tank-top and Sqiddles sleep pants. Rose rubbed off the last of her black lipstick, already weakened by brushing her teeth. Her hair, though absent of its trademark band was still perfectly styled from the day beforehand. Rose shot a quick glance over he shoulder before handling her chest through her shirt. She was only 13 and had only recently begun to develop breasts, and small though they were, Rose still felt they were inadequate for some reason.
        And that reason made itself apparent as a silhouette darkened the bathroom doorway. Rose jumped slightly and quickly jerked her hands from her chest. Her mother drew a grin flanked by slightly drunken dimples.
        "Rose, sweetie," her mother's voice gently cooed, "It's time for bed."
        "I know, mother. I'm just finishing up in here. I'll be in in a moment." Her mother sauntered off down the hall. She was the epitome of a beautiful wonan, as the ever so eloquent Dave Strider would have put it. As her mother disappeared behind the crook of the door, Rose couldn't help but catch herself staring at her own mother's behind. She silently compared it to her own, underdeveloped body and grimaced. For a mother and a daughter, they seemed to share a fervent rivalry akin to siblings. At least, in Rose's mind they did.
        Rose sighed and looked at herself in the mirror one last time. Her skin was smooth; far better in quality than many others of her age. She ran her hand along her face, ponderous.
        "Rose, honey? It's bedtime. Now." Rose stepped off of the stool and out of her brief reverie. Her mother was sounding slightly impatient, though that was probably the gin. She made her way down the hall to her modest bedroom, where her mother awaited her.  Rose met her mother's gaze with a smile which Rose herself could not tell was either biting and sarcastic or genuine and anxious. She climbed into bed, pulling the blanket over and nestling into the padding beneath her.
        Ms. Lalonde kneeled down next to Rose's bed. She took one last sip from her martini and placed the glass on the floor near the bed. She took one hand and ran the length of her slender fingers through the short blonde locks of her daughter's hair. Rose smiled. There was something about this, these few moments before bed that Rose actually felt like her mother was caring, rather than trying to undermine everything she ever did.
        Until she did this, however.
        Ms. Lalonde leaned forward towards her daughter's face. Rose sensed the gin still clinging to her mother's breath. She knew that Mom was not drunk. No, she was pleasantly buzzed; the kind of inebriation where the drive home had fewer green lights, but you were still the one behind the wheel.
        Her mother leaned in and touched Rose's young, thin lips with her own. Tender and supple, they cushioned Rose's young mouth in a way that made her feel weak in the knees. Mom held the good night kiss there for a few moments before breaking away. Rose couldn't help but find herself caught up in the moment, as she was every night. Rose raised her head and caught her mother's lips before she could pull back any farther.
        Ms. Lalonde eagerly accepted her daughter's kiss and leaned back down towards the bed, cradling the back of Rose's head with one hand, her other taking hold of Rose's waist. She held her lips to Rose's for a moment before opening her mouth slightly. Rose could feel that her mother was drawing another grin as she closed her eyes, something that couldn't help but perturb her. Mom gently nibbled on Rose's upper lip. Her fingers gripped the bedspread slightly. That shrew. She knows just how to tease me, thought Rose.
        Rose would have nothing to do with this. She opened her mouth just wide enough to slide her tongue across her mother's lower lip, tasting the faint, lingering bitterness of a strong mixed drink mixed with black lipstick. She had had an old fashioned before her martini, Rose surmised. At this point she had become quite adept at identifying her mother's poison by the aftertaste taking refuge on her lips.
        Mom was pleasantly surprised at her daughter's eagerness tonight. Her smile persisted as she allowed Rose to tongue her lower lip. She opened her mouth ever so slightly and touched the tip of her daughter's tongue with her own. Their mouths danced with each other for a moment, even the slightest touch tantalizing to the very last.
        Though Rose's intention was not the kiss of a tender lover, however. She in this to win. Rose wrestled her hands from her bed sheets and threw them around her mother's neck, pulling her distinguished face harder into Rose's innocent facade. Rose forced her tongue deeper into her mother's mouth, now tasting the full brunt of orange twists, bitters, and vodka. Ms. Lalonde's grip on her waist tightened and she held the back of her daughter's head with the gentle, soothing strength that only a mother could muster. Rose was certain that she had her mother beaten.
        But she did not yield. Her mother nibbled on Rose's tongue and intertwined it with hers. Rose tired to wrestle her tongue from betwixt Mom's lips but to no avail. Ms. Lalonde was clearly in control now. Rose would not give up so easily, however. She pressed her lips even harder into her mother's, fervent and passionate.
        Ms. Lalonde reciprocated by breaking the kiss, Rose now taking heavier breaths. Though her mother would not allow for such an easy reprieve, not at all. Ms. Lalonde moved Rose's head to the side, placing her lips on Rose's neck. Rose let out a small yelp in surprise, which satisfies her mother. She began leaving a trail of kisses from under her daughter's tender chin to the crux of her collarbone. She could feel Rose's grip tighten as she began to nibble at the skin. Not rough enough to leave a mark, but with enough force to shoot sensation throughout her young daughter's entire body. She was teasing her, tantalizing her, making every moment last for far longer than it should have.
        In one moment, Rose was tense, and then fell back in a mess of frustration and enjoyment. Her mother smiled, planting one final kiss on her daughter's cheek, slightly bejeweled with beads of sweat. Ms. Lalonde retrieved her glass and tucked Rose into bed, making sure to turn the lights off on her way out of the room.
        Rose lay there for a few moments. She caressed her cheek, feeling the slight residue of black lipstick. Her mother had beaten her again, as she tended to every night during this exchange. Rose closed her eyes and filled her mind slowly with a dim brew of nothing. She would claim victory over her mother one day.
        Rose curled up under her blankets, holding a hand to her cheek as she slid into a calm slumber.