My hand is around your throat, not to choke, but to hold you steady during each deep thrust. My palm runs along your spine, up and down, nails draggin... along that beautiful pale canvas. I've created an atlas you will conceal with clothes later on; a living map that tells of our secret time here. Part of me wants to say how much I've missed and needed you. That I almost hate you for leaving but hate myself more for not doing anything to stop you.There is so much to say that we never form words. In time, the bathroom became another place for us to sit and visit, especially on those days when I opted to take a bath instead of a shower. On the afternoons when she happened to be home, she seldom failed to come around and ask me "Bath or shower?" And if I replied with "Bath" she began to draw a tub of water for me. Then she would join me in the bathroom while I scrubbed down. She'd sit on the toilet or the sink counter and we'd chatter away.It was around this time, about two or three. I could tell most of them had hard-ons in the room. I was getting real nervous about this now and wondered if I should stop it before it got out of hand.She stood back up and faced me. She looked right at me and I knew this wild-eyed look was one of excitement. She was getting turned on by this attention and taking her clothes off in a room full of guys.She quickly spun around and faced the groom. She reached for the snap on the front of her bra and unsnapped it holding the cups against her. Take care of that wig, Carol. Take care of Carol, Randall ... go home, you two. God, your children will be so beautiful.”That made Carol blush a little. I grabbed her hand and gave her a big kiss and said, “He’s right you know, we will have beautiful children.”On our way back to the theatre, I decided to broach what I thought might be a touchy subject.“Carol?”“Yes, Rann?”“I think we should tell Jeff.”“Tell Jeff what, Rann?”“Our true relationship, that we’re brother and sister.”“Why, Rann? We.
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