At six fifty, I went to Mrs. Parsons door and knocked on it."Mrs. Parsons, please dress for dinner. Quite a lot is happening, and I need to ask your advice about a few things." I didn't wait to see if she would make an answer to my request. I didn't want to argue about whether she should come down to dinner, I wanted her to know that I wanted to consult with her about my problems. It was part of my theory concerning her depression, and the long periods of time when she would remain secluded from everyone.It was about seven fifteen when Mrs. Parsons joined us for dinner. Bea and I were both wearing casual clothing. Mrs. Parsons wore a robe, her hair was unkempt, and she smelled, faintly, of alcohol. When she spoke, any doubts I might have entertained about her drinking were quickly vanquished."Forgive my appearance, Kenny. Tell me what you need from me." I noticed the redness of her eyes, and the uneven tone of her complexion. She looked older, unrested, and very vulnerable. I felt. Ms. E glances at My’Kuyah’s image on her screen. She leans back against the shower wall, her fingers get lost between her thighs, get lost in the depths of the white soap suds, get lost in the folds of her pussy. Her pussy emerges from the suds like the sun breaking through cottony clouds.Her fingers separate her lips, she fondles her sex, her body pushes back against her hand. MK’s erection lifts his computer from his lap. Ms. E pinches her nipples, squeezes her breasts, her hands make love with her body. MK watches. The sexiest woman he will ever know delights him with sinuous movement, teases him, touching places, spreading spaces that she knows MK covets.She rinses and turns off the water. “You are so beautiful, my sweet baby, you make Daddy very happy.” He shifts his position so she can see his erect dick. “Look at what you do to me, sweet beauty, look how hard you make Daddy’s dick.”Ms. E sits atop her bathroom sink and spreads her legs. Her entire demeanor says “you ain’t seen.
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