I ran out of my room, intent on stopping her.Wearing a man's white tee shirt that fit her like a nightdress, she was standing in the front hallway tal...ing to a young man. He was handsome and tall and muscular, with cute dimples and smiling eyes. I could see his appeal to her."Where do you think you're going?" I snarled."To the Tucker's house," she replied."No, you ****are****not!" Yes, I ****am****, and I'm going to spend the weekend! I'll see you Monday morning, Mom."The boy looked at me. His. I love sex. I'm a control freak. I want my daddy...Daddy, thirty-nine now, a third generation American of Italian ancestry (which helps explain his hirsuteness) met mommy on Halloween night of nineteen eighty-nine when they were both Sophomores at University. My mother, from Lyon, France was spending her exchange student year in the States. She never left! I appeared some fifteen months later and then, nine years later my little sister Martine popped out.We're a normal American family.Except. More

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