Daphne looked up.“Fred!” She tried to smile. “How was New York?”“Dirty,” he said it innocently enough. “How’re you anyway?”“I’m ...ine, thank you.”His eyes studied her.“I haven’t seen you for too long, Daph. We should get a drink sometime,” he suggested. “Catch up, y’know?”Daphne regarded him impassively. Steel blue eyes. In his dark uniform, he looked dangerously attractive.“I don’t think so,” she said. “I’m very busy.”*Regret plagued her for weeks after. Almost every night, she found her hand. Glen never wanted details, and only asked if his dad and I 'fucked'. It was the first common use of a vulgar word between us and it was used to describe my passionless marriage bed. Of course I told him what he wanted to know - would tell him anything he wanted to know at that point in our relationship.The thing was, each Monday my son would ignore me - not even finding a moment, even when alone, to touch me. Of course it was the knowledge that his father and I had been intimate that cooled his. More

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