I was up the next morning a little after eight. I waited in my room until I heard dad's car as it pulled out of the driveway. Slipping down the hall I pulled mom's journal out and flipped to the last page.

"He wasn't wearing a shirt. Dear God that chest, those muscles. I wanted to touch them, kiss them, and lick them. The darkness is growing again; God help me."

There it was; mute evidence. The object of her attention, the focus of her lust; was me. Back in my room I sat at my desk and thought. The two biggest questions in my mind were; how much, if...