. whats wrong?” I asked knowing he was struggling with what he had seen. “Why did dad hit you? Did you want him to? Do you enjoy it?” he asked a...l at one in a hurry, still not looking at me. I had never occurred to me he would think his father was a wife beater!“You father has never hit me... not in the way you mean, not in anger.” I said firmly. “I know you saw me last night Mom, you saw me and know what I saw.” he said with quiet firmness.“Please... you father was not doing something.... I was quite fair, tallish, immature sexually and socially, with little or no body hair. I was told that my best features were my blue eyes and blond hair, my long, straight legs, and my cute bubble bum. I was not ruggedly handsome, I was boyishly pretty. But I was quite self-confident, happy in my own skin and easy-going.Joan was like a mother to me, but a mother who I was able to confide in, and trust. I would never have admitted to my own mother, that I had been walking down that path to the. More

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