Why did I even bother to come? Why did I put on this silly black dress, these obnoxious red heels, and get my hopes up about how this evening would go... With a final, admittedly dramatic sigh, I turned around to face the mingling partygoers once again -but all I saw was a pair of crystal eyes. My breath caught in my throat. Leaning against the sliding glass door was a man in a fitted navy suit, his crisp, white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a protruding collarbone and his bare chest. He. Tom: (Tristan was giving me a very important clue. Something that I was already suspicious about.) I read somewhere that k**s have fantasies about their dad. Ever have one about Bob?Tristan became quiet for a bit. He turned toward Tom and started to talk. He had his head down and he spoke softly. Tom had to strain to hear. But what he was saying was so fantastic; Tom moved his head close to him and gave Tristan his full attention.Tristan: Yes, I have had fantasies about my dad. I saw. The question was what to do about it. Marcia, or Marcy as we called her, was developing a bit of a reputation in her teen years. I had heard various tales of her sexual escapades, including stories of her with other girls. How much of it was true, I really was not sure. The one thing I knew was that she was occupying my thoughts more and more. If my dad knew, he would kick my ass no doubt. If my step-mom Denise found out, I would be out of the house immediately. The threat of getting kicked out. Thus you, my reader, can be assured of this document's accuracy. [Strictly speaking, I didn't "listen". The end result would have been the same if I had listened, but the process was considerably more complicated. Things don't "happen" in the past because they've already happened. "Happening" can only happen in the present. When I want to listen to something in the past, I have to see the state of the air just outside each person's mouth, then I slip my perspective through the past toward the.