He woke in a pit house with a hard-packed dirt floor and circular stone walls. The air was stifling, smothering, fetid with centuries of smoldering fires and sweating bodies, mingled with scents of herbs and pollens, scorched grains, barks and oils and feathers.His mind reeled. He was a dancer, head low, chest heaving with gasping exertion, his knees thrusting high as his moccasin-clad feet pounded into the hard-packed clay floor, the throbbing, hypnotic booming drums sending his head forward and back, his steps spinning in tight circles around the fire, pausing briefly when he passed in front of the naked figure hanging from leather thongs. The man's arms and wrists were tightly bound to a peeled pole frame, lashed to twin posts between the fire circle and sacred skin paintings hanging from the kiva wall. As each dancer passed the figure they spun and shook their feathered fists and shell rattles in his staring face, as if to ward away whatever hostile spirits might use his delirious. “Yeah,” I said softly. “It’s funny because I had actually asked your father the other night if he thinks I should get a boob job, these ones are saggy after breastfeeding you kids.” I smiled sweetly at her before turning my hungry eyes at her perfect breasts. “Nah mom, I think they’re perfect.” It was her turn to get red. “How big are they?” I asked boldly. She laughed. “32 D cups.” I stepped even closer to her. “Can I see them?” She froze for a moment, but her drunken state undermined her and she let out another giggle. “Manny, baby are you crazy?” “I’m naked,” I countered. “Plus, who cares, like you said, you’re my mom. Besides, I already saw you naked last week.” “Why do you wanna see me naked? I thought you were sexually active already. You forget what boobs look like?” “Yeah,” I said with the biggest smile on my face. She observed me for a few seconds, unsure what to do. Finally she gave in and silently undid her bikini top knot, exposing her voluptuous sugar brown tits.
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