I try to keep our communication to the bare minimum, still I have to arrange those risqué rendezvous. Which means my computer and cell phone likely h...rbor all sorts of damning evidence.I suffer regular panic attacks wondering if I actually left my laptop open. Yesterday, when I forgot my mobile, I had to run home to retrieve it immediately.Week 16I called my lover by my husband's name today and we had a good laugh, but now I worry I'll say the wrong name at the wrong time. It is a constant. It was a dress. Men, as a rule cannot visualise a dress hanging on a rail with the vision it will be when worn by the woman, yet Marilyn had that happy knack of seeing a dress and knowing how it would look. There was one. It was a creamy white, quite short with tight waist and a low cut neck. My initial reaction was that it would be quite daring, but Marilyn thought otherwise. She decided to try it on. I have to confess that she was right. She filled the bodice well, the swell of her breasts. My skin is soft and sensitive ... I bet I'm ginger, probably even have freckles. Thin, cute, late teens - probably quite hot.Of course, that none of that makes what is to come any less twisted and sick. There's a lump in my throat the size of a Buick ... No, not my throat, the girl's throat. Fear occupies her body like some eldritch god, she can scarcely move. Well, not all of that is down to fear I realise soon enough. Her hands are bound, handcuffs tightened way too tight around her slim,. At least, you assume that it's your mommy and daddy that boinked in bed and you end up being born nine months later as the end result of their lusty activities. Knowing my mom as well as I do, I'm pretty sure she wasn't entertaining any other men when we were gone to school and my Daddy was off at work. But, then, do we ever know anyone well enough to be sure of that or anything else. Obviously not.My mother wasn't what you'd call beautiful or even very sexy, but she was my mother and I loved.