"Don't resist," I said, using the command voice I had been taught despite her complete acquiescence. I held the chain linking the cuffs and knelt down...behind Mom. Tentative in mind but firm in motion, I patted her bare legs as if checking for hidden objects. The action became somewhat less absurd when I reached her knees but only marginally so, given the thinness of the cotton Capri's. I stood but kept my hand on the outside of Mom's right thigh. "Stop resisting," I said.I spoke for effect. . THE PARTY was in mid-swing and Cindy had asked me to refresh her drink, her usual rum and coke. I passed Malomar Twine on the way to the kitchen and, as always, felt that old stirring in the old crotcheroony.In the kitch, I bumped into my old pal, Jack Spratt, as he fetched his wife, Loretta, a refill.Yeah, I know, he's got a funny name. Rhymes with fat. And if Jack hadn't heard every possible fat and lean reference people can come up, well, he ain't heard a one. I approached him from behind. More

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