Bitch Whore         John waited until the house was quiet, then eased out of his sick bed and drew on a pair of thin PJ bottoms. His sisters had gone off to school and his mother had just left for work. With any luck, his sexy Aunt Joy would still be sipping coffee in her maddeningly brief terrycloth robe. With better luck, she’d be naked under that robe.

John eased down the stairs and saw her as he rounded the corner. He was in luck. He smiled weakly as she looked up, then took feeble steps toward the chair that might give him a good beaver shot. As he pulled the chair out to place it at a good viewing angle at the corner, Joy said, “You can stop the act, now, John. She’s gone.”

John plopped down in the seat and smiled. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been around. I was married for twelve years to a man who had three boys. I raised all three through their teens. I know when I’m being stalked for seduction.”

John reacted with feigned shock, started to defend his motives, then smiled bashfully and said, “I guess I’m pretty obvious, huh?”

“I’ll give you credit. At least you came down with something on.”

“I guess you think I’m pretty pathetic, don’t you?”

“Pathetic? Hardly. I’m quite impressed. You’re very good. You have natural abilities. You know just how subtle to be, yet you get your message across loud and clear. Women like that in a seduction. We hate crude grabbers or foul-mouthed mashers, but we especially hate having to guess at a man’s intent. Any sixteen-year-old with twenty-four notches on his bedpost already knows that.”

“You know what those mean?”

“Of course I know. Your mother knows too.”

“MOM Knows?”

“Yes, and she brags about her stud son. She brags to me, anyway.”

“No kidding? Mom knows and she thinks it’s cool?”

“She wouldn’t let you keep carving up a three-hundred dollar headboard if she didn’t, now would she?”

“Wow! I wondered why she never said anything. Man, that is so weird. Mom knows, huh?”

“Yes, but we’re both curious. Do you make a notch each time you get laid, or each time you make a new score?”

“They each represent a new score. I don’t count the same girl twice. If I did that, there wouldn’t be any headboard left.”

“She’ll be thrilled by that news. I said you counted fresh kills; she was sure you were counting fucks.”

“Aunt Joy! I never thought I’d hear you say the ‘F’ word.”

“Can’t you say fuck? You came down here to fuck me, but you can’t bring yourself to say the word in front of me? You disappoint me, John.”
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