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. through my pubic hair . . . and to . . ."Oh my God" I said softly as my fingers worked their way into a warmslit between my legs.After a little more bodily exploration, I managed to snap myself out of itand refocus on what was to transpire later today."Alright Dave . . . pull yourself together here. We've got a big dayahead," I said to myself in the mirror."In a few days, you're gonna be a millionaire . . . and soon enough . . .you'll be able to get the hell out of this body! But for now, you're justgoing to have to grin and bear it".It was time to head back to the city . . . time to take care of business.From this moment on . . . I knew the masquerade was on!Chapter 10Sunday August 31, 3:16 PMDr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C.The doctor's home was absolutely beautiful. With high ceilings, richwoodwork, and oak floors, it was obvious that she was well paid. I gavemyself a little self-guided tour, and then spent the rest of the afternoonrifling through the. Oh my god!, I thought, my heart raced.Mom suddenly closed the mag. She had obviously quickly gathered from the text what it depicted - a young man fucking his mother. Was she too shocked? She looked over her shoulder to satisfy herself that she was alone. Just as I thought all was lost, Mom picked the mag back up and started to read.I quickly retreated upstairs to Peter's room and knocked quietly on the door. Peter answered the door and I immediately told him that Mom had taken the bait and was reading the mag as we spoke."Excellent", he said and led us both quietly back down the stairs to spy on my mother.When we approach my bedroom door we could see that Mom was intently reading the incest mag. As we watched she raised her hand to her blouse and gently unbuttoned it down to her waist. With her left hand she started to caress her nipples through the material of her bra. As she read on she was clearly becoming more and more turned on. Peter nudged me and smiled. We continued to watch.
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We had dinner one night at Souper Salad — of all places – and she I noticed her looking at me closely. Mike, she said, kind of out of nowhere, I felt at one point you weren’t rooting for that relationship to succeed. I almost coughed up my lemonade. I explained that I just didn’t like how he was treating her, that she deserved the best and that I didn’t want her to settle for less. She said, looking in my eyes, and patting me sympathetically on the hand, ‘That’s not what I meant. ‘ I sat there in silence a while. I was busted and she knew it. But, what could I say? I owned up to it. ‘Nashey, I think you’re awesome and you’ve been a great friend. Part of me I guess hoped someday we’d have a change together. But I know I’m being an idiot: you like tall, robust, athletic men of color. I’m 5’9′, I’m 5 years older than you, I’m not in great shape, I’m… white.’ She was biracial — black and Mexican. She’d only dated one white guy and it hadn’t worked out very well. Plus, she was waaaaay.

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