My mind struggles to keep the thoughts of my daughter out as they return to the bed.“Do you want to read it?” Sara asks.Once again, I question, �...Read what?”She opens the drawer of the nightstand as she says, “Mom’s diary.”Looking at the book in Sara’s hand, I ask, “She had a diary?”“Of course she did,” she says as she hands it to me. “Begin reading at the bookmark.”“Would you like us to leave?” Kim asks.Opening the book, I wonder what it contains that prompted this series of events. As I turn a. The bathroom was pristine. Expensive, scented lotions lined a tiledshelf near a large corner bath. Soft, fragranced towels.His erection about gone, he was drawn to a covered laundry hamper. Heopened it and felt fresh stirrings.Atop a variety of skirts and blouses, the most gorgeous lilac bra andpanties set. He dared to hold them, touch them, getting hard again. Heconsidered the brand. Caroline Randell. It felt so luxurious compared tothe high street brands he used to wear.He knew a part of it. More

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