We’ll need it for later.” “Okay.” Kelly finished loading up the dishes. She grabbed the spoon and she took my hand and I followed her up to ...er bedroom. “Take my clothes off!” Kelly put the spoon on her nightstand. She then stood in front of me and unbuttoned my shirt. She helped me off with it. Then she knelt down and untied my work boots and took each one off. She removed my socks and then stood up and unbuttoned my shorts and unzipped them. She pulled my shorts down and I stepped out of. She was pleased to hear that. We talked for about half an hour, and during that period I continuously felt that mom is consciously avoiding talking about dad. Under her warm facade of happiness, there was clearly a streak of sadness.Next time, when mom tried to change the subject after mentioning dad, I could not control my suspicion. “Mom, why aren’t you talking about dad? Is everything all right?”Mom’s face was suddenly pale as if someone has sucked the blood out of it, and she started. It took a while to arrange. I’d been having lunch with a group of guys on a daily bases. Occasionally our conversations turned to sex. I approached one of the maintenance guys, Rick, who had said he had an open marriage, he and his wife were into swinging either as couples or singles. We talked and laid out a plan.On the agreed date, without any previous discussion, I told Meg that I’d hired a plumper to work on our furnace. She knew I’d said there was a problem, but we never discussed. Sitting up, she saw still more evidence that what had happened had been real. Her shirt was draped around her shoulders, ripped clean in half in the front, and it was still wet. Her hair, too, was still quite damp, the dark curls pressed against her skin were as disheveled as she should feel at the moment. But somehow, despite her confusion, the warm afterglow prevented any feelings of anxiety to seep into her mind. She just felt too good for that.After a long, languorous stretch, she sat up in.