Confessions of a Young American Housewife

I better get home, start the cleaning.

Oh, what time is it?

Ten after nine.

Oh, Christ.

I was supposed to be downtown ten minutes ago.

Yes?

I'm... I'm looking for Eddie. Eddie Mellon?

He said I shouldn't be here.

He's not here.

Oh, he said about nine.

Perhaps I should go.

Oh, why don't you wait?

I'm sure Eddie would be very disappointed.

Hello.

Well, don't stand there shuffling. Take her upstairs.

More coffee?

What about your appointment?

Pretend you don't see him.

Carol.

Gee, everybody's so nice.

And your sister's so pretty.

And broad-minded, too.

She's my wife.

Your wife?

God, if my husband found out.

My wife's broad-minded, like you said.

Did you know he was meeting her here?

That bastard. He thought I'd be downtown.

She sounds interesting, anyway.

Who is she, anyway?

She's just some young American housewife.

Just an ordinary young American housewife.

Getting her kicks.

Tell me you'd love to get married.

Tell me you'd love it.

I'd love to get married.

Come on in, Anna. Door's open.

Hi, Carol.

Just thought I'd drop in, see if I could be of any help.

I've got it under control.

At least it's only for two weeks.

If we're very lucky.

Don't be so uptight. Christ, it's only your mother.

Only my mother.

We won't be able to carry on as usual.

I understand that, Carol.

You got any yogurt?

I mean it, Anna. We can't let my mother know.

I mean, how things are.

Don't you think she'd understand? I mean, after all, this is 1974.

Look, in 1963, Mrs. Tom Robinson, my mother,

won the domicile beautiful magazine award as young

housewife of that year.

1963. That's where my mother's head is.

You got any grape jam?

Is this sugar?

1963.

Suburban Cincinnati.

That's how my mother feels about holy matrimony.

Anyway, Pop was killed in that train wreck in 1971.

She's been alone ever since.

She's 37 years old?

I bet she's had a lot of bent partners.

I'd be happy if she did.

Anna, I swear, I don't know why you're not 300 pounds.

Hey, come on, we better get home.

I want everything to be ready. Believe me.

Well, it's not much, but it's home. Welcome, Jennifer Robinson.

Did you have a good trip, Mama?

I'll put your things in your room.

You're more beautiful than ever, Carol.

I'm happy, Mama.

You're lucky to have a man like Eddie, someone who loves you.

I can see why my baby's happy,

having a big hunk of man like this all to herself.

I hope you don't mind if I call you Jennifer.

You're far too young and pretty for me to call Mom.

Hey, let's get a frankfurter.

We just had one at the zoo.

Well, look how far we ran.

I could stand with myself.

Mmm, smells delicious.

Just like when I was little.

You should see the apple pies I baked this afternoon.

You'll be a big hit with Anna.

You saw the way she stuffed herself today.

I like her.

Mama, why don't you get married again?

You're young and pretty.

But why get married?

Well, I don't know.

But you like to bake and you like to cook.

Oh, I don't think I'd ever get married again

even if I found another man.

I'd probably just go off and live

with him for a while, as long as it lasted.

Why shouldn't it last? That sounds cynical.

Carol, even nice things don't last.

What is that heavenly fragrance?

That's Anna and her husband.

I think I'm going to have an orgasm.

And the one with the leer is Hungary's old man, Pete.

Oh, my God, that's good.

Guess what I have here.

It's a copy of the letter that the

national magazine Domicile Beautiful wrote to my mother

in 1963, nominating her as the young American

housewife for that year.

Oh, you one pleasant child.

You won't embarrass me in public by reading that letter.

Go ahead, read it.

Oh, look how red she's getting.

Fine.

Oh, my goodness.

I'll embarrass myself.

I always do when I drink too much wine.

Well, you notice I'm standing close by, waiting.

Well, don't fall down, or else that beast

will be right on top of you.

I think my mother is getting drunk.

I'll reserve the reading until sometime when she's more sober.

I'm going to bed. Good night.

Hey, am I ever horny?

You mean my mother turned you on?

I'm hot as a firecracker.

Hey, come on, my mother.

She's feeling no pain.

She'll just fall right down into bed.

Look, if you're worried, let's go to our place.

I hate to leave her alone.

Well, she ain't no kid.

But she's still got a lot of juice

left in her, I'll tell you that.

You know, her tits intrigue me.

She never wears a bra.

You know, we were sitting there and her

old tits were crying from my mouth.

Can't we get off the subject of my mother's tits?

Don't be so sensitive.

Haven't you ever seen your mama naked?

I don't remember.

I bet you even sucked her tit.

You did suck your mama's tit, didn't you?

I don't know.

I bet you did.

I bet you could remember if you concentrated real hard.

Let's get her comfortable.

She'll concentrate better if she was riding a chair.

Concentrate, Carol.

You can remember sucking your mama's tit.

Letting your tongue play around the rosette.

Feeling your nipple get hard and firm.

And then putting your lips around it.

Your tongue still touching the tip.

And then drawing on it.

Drawing and sucking.

Sucking and drawing.

Until you get milk.

You remember getting milk, baby?

Remember?

Remember?

Drawing warm, sticky, sweet milk.

Sticky, warm, lovely milk.

Right from your mama's tit.

Oh, you're a hot bitch, aren't you?

Yes.

I'm hot.

I'm hot.

Mama.

Mama.

Mama wanted to go shopping by herself today.

How was she feeling this morning?

She seemed fine.

She sure can bake.

My ma's the world's worst.

Mama was always good at anything she did.

Anything.

Hi, Mrs. Robinson.

Oh, Pete. You startled me.

I'm sorry I'm all alone here.

I like you, Mrs. Robinson.

I like you too, Pete. You're a nice boy.

No.

You liked the first one just fine.

Come on, how about another?

It wouldn't be right.

Of course it would be right.

What about Ann? Isn't she enough for you?

You're kidding.

Your tits drive me out of my bird.

I want to feel your insides around me, baby.

And pump my juice into you.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I've got to admit, she's got me hot too.

My mother?

There's just something about her.

She's sexy.