The Ironic Costume Gone Wrong
The PTA Halloween bash was my kingdom. As the president, I’d transformed the high school gym into a tacky wonderland of orange streamers and dry ice. Every other mom—clad in her sensible witch hat or cat ears—looked to me, Claire, the queen bee. I had it all: the perfect house, the successful husband, Mark, and the body that still turned heads at thirty-eight. Which is why my costume was a masterpiece of irony. I’d found it online for twenty bucks: a “Sexy MILF” costume. The name tag, pinned to a ridiculously tight, low-cut top, read “Hello, Boys!” The skirt was barely more than a wide belt. I wore it as a joke, a wink to the other women who secretly hated me. Mark had laughed when I put it on. “You’re asking for it tonight,” he’d whispered, slapping my ass. I spent the first hour holding court, my D-cups practically spilling out of the cheap top, sipping a vodka cranberry. I felt powerful. Untouchable. Then, a strange, tingling warmth spread through my chest, right...