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I take a look at myself in the mirror and am pleased that, though slightly flushed, I’m not too disheveled.I only now realize that she’s been star...ng at me.“Should we go?” I ask nervously.She squints her eyes for a moment as if she’s considering something. Her eyes stay fixed on mine as she slowly unbuttons her pants. Holy fuck.The car is so silent that the zipper being pulled down is louder than it would normally be.She reaches over and grabs my hand, guiding it to her waistband. She pushes my. She knew the answer and suspected he did, but she still had to vocalise it. “Yes, please.” “For tomorrow night?” She nodded, three short nods, barely there. “Stand up, please.” He said with quiet authority. Nothing if not an utterly obedient housewife, or at least former housewife, she did as she was told. “Would you undo your housecoat for me?” She could not look up at him, but meekly untied the cord. It fell open at the front, revealing a white silk nightdress that was so long he could not. In its place was the ritual of Sunday morning breakfast. Nothing short of an emergency would cause this rite to be skipped, canceled, or delayed. It was the one time that Audrey expected the entire family to be together without question, and this morning was no exception.The Sunday morning breakfast was conducted like a summit. Whatever arguments or disagreements had taken place over the last week were put by the wayside. The fact that this one inviolate rule of the Sunday morning breakfast had. I thought, though, when the three of us were out for a weekend, that he and I were hiding our relationship pretty well. Deena told me this evening that I didn’t.So it’s starting to push past eight PM when my phone chimes with Deena’s ringtone. I scoot away from Bill to get it.“Our daughter,” I giggle to him, then, “Hi, Deena. What’s up?” Yes, the phone’s on speaker.She sighed. “Had a looong talk with Mom.”“She gonna cause a problem?”“No, but we got kinda loud at each other. Harv (that’s Deena’s.
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