"Oh, hell, gimmethat, I'm cold already." She gave it to me and I slid it underneath theskirt. The doorbell rang. They looked at me expectantly. ..."What, do youwant me to get it?" I asked. "What am I, the maid arou-" I slapped ahand over my mouth, but it was too late.***16:38 28 Feb "Simmons residence, who may I say is calling," I said sourly. Itwas Pam. She pointed and laughed. And laughed, and laughed, andlaughed. I turned around, struggling out of the apron. "I am not. My fantasies are about my beautiful mother and me. In them, my mother is thirty-six but looks much younger. I am a sixteen-year-old boy with a perpetual hard-on. On a Sunday morning in summer, we go for a walk in the country. It is peaceful, sunny, and warm. My mother has a white simple dress on. Since the path is narrow, I walk behind her. I cannot help but notice her beautiful legs. Her calves are shapely, like upside-down bowling pins. As she walks, her dress flaps; and her beautiful. More

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