She didn't."So, what's this 'price' he's taking about?" I asked finally.Her smile grew wider. She ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her glass, brought it slowly to her mouth, and gently sucked the moisture from it before answering. Her eyes were glassy, her pupils large, dark wells of mystery."You had your fun. Now it's my turn."She turned toward him, pulled him close, and covered his mouth with hers. The kiss was long and deep. A minute passed, then two. She sucked at him hungrily, her tongue wrestling with his, her hands clutching him from behind his neck. I heard her moan softly as she melted away from him, then faced me again with the same smile.Stephan composed himself, took a long drink of scotch, and sighed."It's been an interesting week, David - one I'll remember for a long time to come." An interesting week? What does he mean?" I hissed.She eyed me coolly, then looked straight at me as she spoke in a voice I was afraid could be heard at the next table."I've given. After puberty hit me, I spent more than one night masturbating in the dark, peering through cracked doors as I watched her getting fucked by some random guy. But the worst part was that on top of her questionable parenting choices, she was also incredibly strict, to the point of abusive. We grew up being hit by her constantly and for the most miniscule offenses. Wetting the bed, spilling a cup of water, or even just basic childhood misbehaviors like talking back or crying because we didn’t get something. I’m not saying we were perfect kids, but the punishments didn’t really fit the crimes! She’d say things like “If you’re going to live with me you’re going to respect me!” or“I will not have you turn out like your mother!”“It’s not my job to love you, just keep you alive!”Who knows, maybe she has good intentions, but it has never felt like it. Michael and I regularly complained to one another, and talked about running away or telling someone, in particular, our social worker,.
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