It had been too many years. If it hadn’t been for the birth mark she wouldn’t have recognized him, either.“Mr. Harris? Alden Harris?” She prob...bly should’ve remembered his name when she first heard it, but all she remembered was the nickname her mother had given him.He nodded and took the mask off his head. It left a sweaty depression in his dark brown hair which hadn’t been cut for a few months. She thought about getting back in her car again. Like she should have a minute ago.“I’m not taking. Let me call Sharon and see if I can catch her before she leaves for her Friday evening class.”Kara nodded and I picked up the phone and dialed Sharon’s home number. She was there, and I explained what had happened. She was sympathetic, and said she would do her best to help Marcia if she called. I thanked her, then followed Kara to the dining room so we could join the rest of the family for dinner.September 16, 1995, Chicago, IllinoisThe scent of incense filled my nostrils and caused me to. I noticed this out of the corner of my eye and turned to see what my wife would do. She seemed oblivious to the woman's hand as they talked on and on while the hand kept creeping higher and higher up my wife's thigh. It wasn't long before, the woman had her hand practically right on top of my wife's cunt as she rubbed her hand up and down my wife's thigh, pushing her dress higher and higher as she did.Again, I looked at my wife and found she seemed to be enjoying what was being done to her.I. Or he was playing with me. I wasn't sure.I was standing a dozen feet from the gazebo. I'd throw a tennis ball and, like a shot, he was after it. He'd snag it, bring it back, then lie down a few feet from me and grin. I swear he was grinning. And he wouldn't give the damn thing back. I'd walk over, grab the tennis ball, we'd play tug-of-war for twenty or thirty seconds, then he'd let go and we'd start all over again.It was almost midnight, and I was playing with the dog. I was just too pumped up.