Bobby leaned back, rocking his chair back on two legs, and looked out the doorway. He looked at his mother, with one eyebrow raised.“Looks like she ...ook him to her room,” he said. His comment was punctuated by the slamming of a door, in the direction of the kids’ bedrooms.Matilda and Betty both jumped up, as one. “I gotta hear this!” said Matilda, excitedly.“Sit down!“ ordered Mirriam.“Awww, come on, Mamma,” complained Matilda. “I bet she’s yelling at him something fierce!”“You will not intrude. ”I asked, “Did you ever think you’d be a whore?”She shook her head and said, “I don’t think I ever really connected the word with the actual idea of doing it. I know that what we do fits the definition. But I don’t think of myself as a whore. I’m more of a sex slave with an allowance.“I’d hate for my friends or my parents to find out what I’m doing. But it isn’t like we’re street walkers or call girls. I think it’s best not to think too much about labeling what we do. Not if you have a. More

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