His tearsstill dampened the carpet. The nightlamp still fell in slow motion. Theimage of her young son, her pride, her treasure, still dominated thero...m: her blue dress, her pantyhose, her jewelry, her lipstick,her...everything! On him, a thirteen-year-old boy. On his face, shame ---and fear.She wavered, briefly, before she walked into his bedroom. The argumentsin this room had been heated and strenuous. Each had always risen to thechallenge of the other, each defiant, each resolute. Could she. This got him curious, and he asked me how. I said, “Just the same way as you, but it was much better.” He was shocked and asked me to explain.I said, “Okay, listen. Remember last year, once mom and dad had asked us to spend a day at grandma’s place? But I ended up dropping you at grandma’s place and went to my friend’s place for a stayover?”He said yes, vaguely. Then I continued, “After dropping you, I came home to pick up some porn so that we could watch it at my friend’s place. I closed the. More

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