I had an idea what was on the tape, because I had been watching my father's porn since middle school. In the corner of the room, on top of the dresser...was a 19" TV and VCR. Marc inserted the film and pressed the play button; instantly, the screen came alive with a closeup of a blonde chick bobbing up and down on some guy's knob. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched the scene unfold; it was standard 80's fare—boom-chukka-boom-boom beat in the background, a bimbo with big hair squealing in. He could hear the acceleratedthud of her heart, the hot rush of her impassionedblood. This female child was truly aroused. She wantedhim. He cleared his constricted throat. “Is that what you are, Callie?” He heard his voiceassume the hypnotic rumble that was his own brand ofseduction. “A prostitute?” He tried to tell himself how insane this was, remindhimself that it was dangerous to allow his hunger todominate his common sense. But the florescent lightswere becoming. More

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