Now he saw her as a woman first and his mother second... a woman that he now dreamed about every night and felt sexual stirrings for. It was all wrong... and it was driving him crazy. He would see her in the kitchen fixing dinner and have sexual thoughts. She would lean over to get something out of the refrigerator and he would see her slacks tighten over her smooth ass and pull between her cheeks. An unwanted chill would go through him. When she bent over in front of him, his eyes would fall on. “We, um, are going to the Pub St. Germain around the corner so, uh, Ashley can have a milkshake, would you, um, want to join us? Maybe, um, tell Ashley about Paris?” Smooth, that’s my dad. I was a well-behaved daughter. I let her buy me the milkshake when she learned my seventeenth birthday had been the week before. I pretended to be interested in how she studied at Cornell and lived somewhere in New York a bunch of years ago before moving back to France. It was a tiny bit interesting that her. More

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