So I was right about her fucking Bobby. Shit. The last thing I wanted to be was right. Maybe she just should have shut up about him and worked it out ...erself…but the genie was out of the bottle.I took my clothes and walked to my room with the sound of my mother's voice calling, "Ricky…Ricky?" fading in the distance. I didn't talk to her until the next day, which was Saturday. Talking is putting it mildly.I started with, "How could you? You bitch, you whore. You fuck him and then you tell me he. I returned them to the bed with the thought that I had to have them when it became time for my mother to throw them out.Only three days after discovering the suntan pantyhose I overheard Dad telling Mom that she had a run in her pantyhose. I waited a while before going downstairs and into the kitchen. My mother was standing at the kitchen sink wearing a dress, heels and off-black pantyhose. I took a quick glance at her legs and thought I saw a thin run emanating from the heel of her right shoe.. More

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