Mom literally walked past my open door while I was mid-orgasm

I'm 28 now, but back when I was 26, I was living at home to save money, and my room is right off the hallway—meaning anyone coming in has to pass my door to get to the kitchen or whatever. Me and my then-boyfriend are in the middle of, uh, some enthusiastic adult activities. We're going at it, full throttle, I'm mid-climax, moaning way louder than I realized because the AC was blasting that white noise hum. Sweat everywhere, that musky bedroom smell mixed with his cheap cologne, my heart pounding like a drum solo.

Suddenly, I hear the front door creak open. Then footsteps. My brain freezes: "Wait, is that Mom? She's supposed to be at work!" But we're too far gone, and right as I hit the peak, I catch a glimpse through the crack in my door (yeah, I forgot to close it all the way—idiot move). She's walking past, grocery bags in hand, and our eyes lock for a split second. Hers widen like saucers. Pure panic, face burning hotter stomach dropping to my knees.

Post-coitus silence hits, broken only by the pantry door squeaking—that rusty hinge sound I know like my own heartbeat. She's unloading stuff, pretending nothing happened. Then, footsteps back down the hall. She pauses outside my door and says in this sing-song voice, "I'm not here! I'm not here! La la la!!!" while literally backing out the front door and leaving again. I could hear her keys jangling as she fled.

Boyfriend laughed his ass off, but I was mortified, curled up fetal, whispering "oh god no".