Mrs. Marshall was pulling out as she parked on the road, and they waved at each other as Alan’s mom drove off. Alan was waiting for her on the front...porch, and she threw herself at him. Embracing him around his torso she rubbed her body up and down against his. ‘You seem happy, slut,’ he said to her. ‘Yes Alan, I’m your slut,’ she panted back. He pulled her into the house, and led her to his bedroom. Sitting down on his bed she picked up the book next to her. ‘Hmm, doing a little light reading?. I followed him to the kitchen, startling him. "You don't have to help,"he said earnestly. "Why don't you wait in the living room and I'll getyou your tea?"I brushed aside his protests. "Nonsense. I'll give you a hand. Or atleast give you some company." He shrugged and started doing his work. Heseemed natural in the kitchen. Working smoothly, neatly. The only soundbeing the jingle of his bangles or anklets."So, what does your husband do," I asked.There was a sharp intake of breath. "I, er, I. I know how you guys like a solid description, so here’s one early. My name is Alyxandre, but most people call me Alyx. I’m a boy of course, weigh about one-hundred, twenty pounds and stand at a tall height of six foot, one inch. I am pale as fuck and I have curly black hair that reaches past my ear lobes. I’m thirteen, one year older than my little brother, Zack. He’s about five foot, one inch and ninety-two pounds, also pale and has short brown hair, which is straight as a line and blue eyes.. We called it ‘Jacks Bar’ for two reasons; Jack was the owner, and people who went there had ‘Jack’. I sat down at the back of the bar, and made myself comfortable. I was a little bit nervous because I had not seen Jesse in well over five years. We went to high school together, and grew up in the same neighborhood. After high school, Jesse moved to California to pursue her career in design, and I stayed in Montreal to pursue my studies in psychology. She started a small clothing.