Deborah panicked. She was in her forties now that she thought about it. Still, Angela’s body was still nineteen years old. “What do you mean?” she asked. “How old do I look?” She started to shake. She skipped the pull-up because she didn’t anticipate seeing the terrorist and she was wearing sexy new panties for Derek. She started to wet herself.
“I mean, my mother likes that kitsch.”
“Oh,” said Deborah. She managed to stop peeing, but wasn’t sure she was still dry. She had to pee even worse now that she had let some out. “Excuse me.” She got up and hurried to the bathroom. The whole time she was careful to keep her butt pointed away from the center of the dining room.