She was not the little girl I had taken to school, watched play in concert band and ran track. She was a woman and she was asking me,… challenging...me to treat her like a woman. “Fine. Get up, strip and go use the restroom and clean up your lower parts. And Lindsey, don’t you dare disappoint me by using the word “Uncle.” If you call uncle, we stop, no questions.”“I understand, Master B” she said and I thought I notice a slight shudder. Elise had indeed told her things from long ago and I. A nice, pleasant young man, Jamal was handsome, not uncommonly so but still enough to catch a woman’s eye. His darkish chocolate-colored skin was clear, smooth and invited women to touch it. Susan had actually seen that happen as middle-aged women would constantly flirt with Jamal, for no reason other than to place a lingering, gentle touch upon him while making an observation or joke.With most young studs she would have joined in but Jamal’s choice in swimwear left Susan cold. Long baggy swim. The bag danced about impishly, remaining just out of her reach. It led her around the parking lot, spinning and leaping and twirling about, and Jenny kept after it, jumping and reaching and laughing and not caring if anyone was watching her or not. A breeze caught the bag and tossed it far ahead of Jenny, and then, after a series of bunny hops, the bag disappeared behind a large green car. ‘You can’t escape me that easily, bag!’ Jenny crowed as she raced up to the car. The bag was trapped. I went around to the back door, which I knew would be unlocked, and marched into the kitchen. And there she was, chopping carrots.“Ooh, make yourself at home, won’t you?” she said, frantically trying to get the tone right, to balance ‘Get out of my fucking house’ with an unmistakable ‘Nice to see you.’“Sorry,” I said, crumbling immediately in the presence of this immensely attractive, all-powerful mother figure.“Ben, you look terrible,” she said. “Come and lie down.”She took me into the spare.
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