He saw her breasts shake through her tank-top as he grabbed her. She wasn't wearing a bra which only added to his consternation.

The image of her breasts swaying under her shirt, the effect it had on him, was fleeting but what it generated in him was a beginning to an end. His twenty-one year old daughter Alex seemed to sense it.

Half sitting on the dining room table, Nicholas wasn't looking at his daughter's breasts. As they talked he was looking at her, accustomed to them, even now at eye level, peripherally entering his awareness jostling so sexily through the cotton of her tank top. Her nipples like cones,...