I have inherited my mother’s small bones and slim body and my father’s full mouth and tan skin and my dark hair and eyes from both of them. What I have not inherited—and I’m glad of it—is any hot bloodedness whatsoever. I think I know what that refers to and I’d like to state that at sixteen I’m pure and fully expect to remain so for all eternity. We live in Manhattan My father is the art director of an advertising agency and does art photography as a hobby, and my mother is a psychologist with her own practice and a propensity for reading romance novels. I am a junior in a girls’ Catholic high school in the East Village, Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows, run by the Immaculate Sisters of Mary, an order of nuns that still wear habits. In my opinion, every nun in the world should wear a habit. I mean, how sneaky is it to have a woman dressed like an office worker standing next to you in a subway car, suddenly turn and say, “Button up that jacket,” and you know immediately it’s a sister. He couldn't. She was his mother and surely her son wouldn't be harbouring thoughts like that about her.She shook her head asIt was illicit. It was taboo. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.Yes, but it was delicious too...Jen inhaled audibly as the thought crossed her mind.I wonder what his cock looks like."Stop it." She said aloud to herself. "He's yours son. Just stop it!"But she couldn't deny the fluttering in her stomach. She hardly realised how much she had been thinking of Dan as she almost overshot the turnoff to her home. Shaking her head again, rather firmly this time, as she turned into her lane and a few meters down into her own driveway."Just get a grip of yourself." She reminded herself as she walked up to her door. Turning the key, she unlocked the door and let herself in. She suddenly felt tired. "I'm home" she called out. "In the kitchen, Mom." She heard Dan call out. "Just finishing up dinner. Sorry I didn't wait for you but I was kinda hungry."She walked in just as he.
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