All I got was Don’s voice mail, so I hung up and returned to watching Bob from our dining room window. The more I watched Bob, the more interested I...became. I slipped on my skimpiest pair of running shorts, sans underwear, and a form fitting sports bra. I pulled my hair back into a pony tail, tied my running shoe laces tight and headed out the back door. I figured that I might as well run off my frustrations. As I ran past Bob emptying his grass catcher into an alley garbage bin, he looked my. What a sight Emily made washing up stark naked with yellow marigold gloves on. We were fairly steaming along when she suddenly dropped the bombshell. “How long have you been fucking Mummy?” she asked. “What? I said, almost dropping the plate I was drying. “How long have you been fucking Mummy?” “I haven’t been fucking Mummy as you put it, and what kind of language is that for a girl of your age?” “I think you are fibbing” I said “Fibbing?” I was at a loss. “Yes fibbing, you know lying, like not. More

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