Whore. It was different, she tried to justify it to herself. She didn’t think of Bella that way, or any of the girls at Mary’s. Or the boys either... They were just doing jobs, providing a service. They seemed to be good people. A little rough around the edges, obviously, but still good.Whores were something else. Something bad. She couldn’t come up with the right words to describe the difference in her head. She just knew that in this brothel, the only one she truly thought of as a whore, was. Once they got potty trained, it just never occurred to us to put something on them, unless it was cold.It occurred to me, quite suddenly, that we had two teenagers, standing around the wood stove, stark naked. It was the first time I’d recognized them as anything other than ... Frannie and Brad.I surveyed my seventeen year old son. Almost a man, he had already tested me many times in the time-honored tradition of the young bucks testing the old bulls, pushing limits here, stretching the rules. More

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