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I lookedlike a student at the local Catholic school. I realized that in myexcitement, I failed to check the locket. I wonder if this was amongthe changes in the picture. Too late now.I spent the day in the house, as I often did once chores were done (notthat I did them today, Tuesdays are usually dedicate to yard work, eww)I decided to browse tv and browse the internet. I hit a few of myfavorite sites, but found myself focusing on the music stories about thelatest boy music sensation. I won't tell you who he is, but girls wholike him are accused of having a certain sort of "fever".I focused on his picture for a minute and thought, he isn't such a badguy. I don't understand why these people are so mean about him, or hisfans. Heck, if *I was* a girl I would be a fan, he's kind of cute. Ithought about posting about it in one of the music threads, but for somereason, it rejected my logon.Whatever, their loss.As the afternoon went on, I decided to venture out of the house. . "I don't know. No. I was thinking of you as she was doing it." She approached with a few raspberries. Placed one on my tongue. I held it there for a moment, with my eyes closed, and she leaned in to kiss me, sharing the berry as we crushed it with our tongues. Once again she placed my hand on her breast, squeezing my fingers harder on her nipple. Her other hand was skillfully undoing the buttons on my blouse, slipping up my bra to touch my nipple. I could scarcely breathe, desperate to keep my eyes open and see her, but they kept closing to kiss her deeper. Just as suddenly, she took a step back to look at me. I was aware of having one bare breast, one with the bra cup just barely hanging on, a little raspberry juice on my chin. All I knew was I wanted to see her. All of her. Touch her. All of her. I fumbled with the mother-of-pearl buttons holding her blouse closed, opened it to see her pale breasts, the flush on her chest, the nipples and areolas rose colored, standing, demanding.
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’ ‘Um…load of rubbish that you’re crazy mother made up years ago’, were your exact words. Forgive me Mrs Myles. No offence meant.’ Jay’s mother looked at Jay, a dark thunder cloud of a frown forming across her brow. ‘None taken when it wasn’t you who insulted me.’ ‘Yes, well all that has changed now. I want mother here in the lock down. Have you been thinking about what I said earlier?’ Greg moved his hands to his side and Jay noticed they were shaking. ‘Yes I’ve been thinking about it. The whole project is hard enough, and now you want your mother to live here with us? With the maker, and some model, who doesn’t exist, that we may or may not find?’ ‘You’re upset?’ ‘Damn right I’m upset.’ Greg paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Both Jay and his mother watched him, realising more was to come. ‘Jay, we need to think of another alternative. I can’t live here for six weeks, design the Full Figured Chic line and share the space with your mother — whose sanity is suspect. We have.

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