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As the girls grew, Beth was a frequent visitor to our home, spending almost as much time there as Vicki. Barbara welcomed Beth with open arms. I, too, developed a caring relationship with Beth. I told myself we were like father and daughter. I resisted the thought of a different relationship, which sometimes required conscious effort.As we worked and talked, my mind's eye suffered from double vision. Beth and the present overlaid memories of the past which flowed like a disjunctive home movie. A party Barbara and I chaperoned when the girls were sophomores in high school. Trips to the beach. Quiet evenings in winter by the fire, all of us bundled for warmth.There were sad memories, too. Memories of life after Barbara. Without being asked, Beth moved into the house, occupying the guest bedroom. What needed to be done, she did with a quiet and loving competence. She listened and consoled. After living with us for four months, she left as unobtrusively as she came.When she left, I was. ” She unhooked it from the back, and he was amazed to see when she did, the breasts didn’t move at all. They were so firm, they didn’t hang—they just hovered there. Suddenly, Houlihan was extremely jealous of all those boys. He swore he wasn’t going to touch her. But this was torture; this was his teenage dream come true, his ultimate fantasy, his everything. And he wasn’t going to touch her. He couldn’t. That way, if something went haywire with this crazy plan, he could swear he never had sex with her, never laid a finger on her. He held the feather between his thumb and forefinger, and gently traced her nipples. She took deep breaths. He chuckled. She wouldn’t be able to stay still for long. He drew the feather between her breasts, down to her belly button, and made the feather do a slow figure eight across her flat stomach. She quivered. He then smiled, and circled the feather in her left arm pit before he sliced it down her rib cage. She shrieked. “Turn around,” he said sternly..
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