Like a great piece of art, an opera or a masterpiece of painting or sculpture, one must be silent in its presence. Arms wrapped around each other, pressing our sides together, my sister and I stood on the deck of the great ship and beheld the City. My sister fell in love at first sight. I already was.Arriving two weeks before school resumed, we got busy. Adoption proved problematic, mostly because of the risk of investigating my mother. We decided on marriage. She married the fashion photographer and moved in with him on paper. We worried the legitimacy might be checked, but needn't have. She pretended the Park Avenue address but stayed in the 5th Avenue penthouse with my mother, the old flapper and myself. I showed my sister the City. (Though she wasn't my sister officially, we liked pretending we were siblings, incestuous but nevertheless family.) Inexhaustible, her enthusiasm infected. The princess joined us sometimes and the ménage a trois ended the days memorably. Mother. .”“Maybe,” I said. “Or...” and I dove under the covers. God, I love it when it’s soft. Doesn’t stay that way long, but I do so much love it. “There. You’re clean. NO drippies.” I thought for a second. His juice tastes like MY juice. Yeah, I know how I taste. Tell me you never tried it. But he COMES. That’s different, and guys’re funny.“You might not wanna do me, though. You came in me...”“I did it yesterday,” he answered.“But that might be the heat of the moment. We’re sane now.”He pushed me onto my back. I spread my legs. Squealed when his tongue invaded me. Nope, he doesn’t have a problem with it. That was analytical, but analysis stopped because he kept licking and sucking and nibbling me waaaay past the requirements for getting rid of the previous mess. I came again. Twice.Now we can go back to sleep, curled up away from the wet spot.We woke up at seven. Ate breakfast.The clerk of court’s office is open at nine. We’re there. When we walk out of the building at ten-thirty, I am.
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