I used to come up to this attic at our summer cabin while my parents were out on my dad’s lobster boat. I’d found a length of white nylon rope. I ...hink it was a spare mooring line for the boat, thirty feet of autoerotic asphyxiation bliss. Tying a hangman’s noose, I’d throw the other end of the rope up and over one of the ceiling joists. Then setting a short footstool beneath the noose, I’d tie a small knot at the other end of the rope, one just big enough to keep my hands from slipping off,. It wasn't like I was yelling at them or anything.The problem was that my Aunt agreed with me and said so. When that happened, my mom went cold. We left pretty soon afterwards. I went straight from my Aunt's to my job in one car while mom and dad took the other one home.A few hours later I drove home, having temporarily forgotten about the "argument". Walking in the back door, I immediately entered the kitchen. They were waiting for me. They'd probably heard me in the driveway.Mom was sitting on. Just a little. But it was enough.Rumble... rumble... BOOM!"God!" I murmured into his mouth. "Oh, God, Craig! God!" We were still kissing but kept missing each other's mouth. Who cared? This was... WOW!"Craig?" I gasped after a couple minutes. "Oh, baby, faster, 'k?" If... I'm gonna..." It's OK, baby, take me with you," I said.He went faster. And he took me right with him.Ka-BLAM!!!!I shook. I screamed. I stuck my tongue down his throat. A dead man wouldn't last through that--and Craig. By the age of nine her hair had more colours than I had coloured felt-tip pens in my pencil case. By the age of twelve, her uniform was tie-dyed and by fourteen she was almost expelled for taking the tower block hostage to protest at the crisis in the Balkans and the genocide of Bosnians.But as she counted down her teenage years, her sense of rebellion was exhibited through a "make love not war" attitude that made her the talk of the college.I had the privilege on her eighteenth birthday. I.