The whole situation was odd. I understood it was incest. That didn't bother me in the least. What did, to some extent, was that Mom didn't talk when i... was happening. In fact, she didn't talk at all about what had occurred between us. I was pretty sure she was okay with it since she'd smiled and acted fine the mornings after. But I really wanted to know what was going on in her mind. Unfortunately, I was not going to initiate that discussion. Despite what we'd done, I was too embarrassed to. This was no toy, like that silly, absurdly pink thing Miranda had given her. This was weighty, solid, serious. The blunt torpedo shape was meant for nothing more, or less, than penetrating her most intimate part.Now that she'd gotten it home, she was oddly hesitant. She stood it on her nightstand and turned on the shower.When she got out, warm and flushed and pink, it was waiting patiently. Sleek. Unyielding. Implacable. There would be no give to it, no warmth other than what traces her own. More

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