Rats, I thought. Listening closely, I heard the rustling of clothing, a wet squishy sound, a moan. It was people--two people. and Jeff were upstairs. Dad and Charlene were in the living room.My heart raced at the implication. I eased forward. The sounds were unmistakable--the sounds of sex. Though I didn't know the act, I knew the sound. I crept closer, moved to the refrigerator, and peered cautiously around. There in the subdued light was a man's back, Randy's back. A woman's hand clutched his left ass cheek. I drew back with the realization that my mother was fucking Randy Bradshaw.My first impulse was to make a quiet exit. My cheek still hurt from the slap of the same hand that was now drawing Randy's naked ass tight to her crotch. I had a right to be there, ordered to be there. They didn't. Anger gave me strength to move back. This time, I got a better look. Randy held Mom's left leg high on his right side. Her panties dangled from her ankle. Randy's ass pumped a moist steady. “You didn’t marry when you came to the UK? In our religion, Orthodox priests can get married,” I said.“In my case, it was difficult, even though I had had the opportunity many times to get married.”“What was holding you back?” I asked.“I still love her, as I loved her back then,” he smiled. “Probably till the day I die.” We both sat there in silence, Father Petrou in deep thought.I wanted to speak to confess, tell him my story, but I didn’t. We had enough drama for one day. I will confess to him on another day.It took days, weeks to get my strength back, by the Mid-September, I began to jog. I started with two kilometres and gradually increased my distance. By the end of October, I was running ten kilometres every night. The streets surrounding Wood Green shopping centre were dead at two in the morning. The only sound you could hear was my trainers hitting the pavement. I felt the autumn breeze on my face, as I glided along the streets.When I finished my jog and got back to my.
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