Letting go, my fingers trace lightly up your inner forearms, and when I reach your inner elbow, I tickle and rub only lightly with the pads of my fingers, so soft… then, before the tickling gets irritating or requires a reaction to quiet things, my hands drop back down and again intertwine with yours. Meanwhile, my lips continue to graze outward along the line of your left shoulder, between tongue, lips and teeth I am able to grip the strap, and move it to your shoulder’s end… I laugh lightly as I make the briefest attempt to look exultant, before I let it go, whispering “Voila” as it falls, and gently lands limply against your left arm. You giggle, and my exultant and anticipated look disappears. Dashed! My hands are holding yours, so you are not holding it up. I have relented in my avid press against you from behind, but it stays. I lean and whisper, kissing your neck once again, “I felt the straps, so I am pretty sure I have not been dancing with a vision in body paint.” You. Oh well, I guess I'll find out someday."Mom, that isn't what I've been told." I felt sorry for my mother. I couldn't really say much to my father about hiding this from me all those years, but my mother wasn't going to think I still was in the dark. Maybe I should be mad at Mom instead of my father.Mom was introduced to Helen and Pattie. I thought she was going to deny she knew who they were. Maybe she had never met them, but after glancing at me, she didn't attempt to. Pattie and Becky were side by side, and were wearing clothes much the same. It was obvious they were related."Oh, you look just like Becky." She stopped speaking, not knowing what to say next.Betty knew what game Mom was playing. "Mom, there is a good reason why they should look alike and don't you pretend otherwise. She is Becky's half-sister. Pete's good friend, Cameron, asked Pete to donate sperm so his wife Helen, could have a baby when he found he couldn't sire one. Pattie is Helen's child and Pattie is something.
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