What awonderful feeling. That’s when she stopped pushing back against my hips.“Look, look right now.” she said. I was too occupiedwi...h my own pleasures to listen. “No, look, she’swatching us.” I turned my gaze to the camper beyond thebed of the pickup and sure enough, there was my wife’smother, pressed against the large bay window of thecamper watching me fuck her daughter. I paused for a fewmoments, looking to see if she was really doing what shewas. When had it begun? Back in June, the night of the spinning game? No, ithad started weeks before that, right after school let out, not longafter Dad had hopped an Airbus to Chicago. End of spring, around thesame time the season turned and the flowers burst forth along thesidewalk. The day I sat listening to the radio on the front porch, idlytapping away at a paddle-ball while a huge blue moving van rolled upbefore the Old Stewart Place.The morning Chrissie moved in, to be precise.How long ago. More

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