Trying not to make any noise, I stood outside for a few seconds to see if they'd heard me, when Dad said."What was that?" "Nothing Rich, what did you hear?" I saw a light, what was it?" I didn't see anything, you must be imagining it." But I'm sure I saw something." You're drunk, you're imagining it." Uh, oh ok, all right then, I just thought that I saw something," and then there was silence.I crept the few yards down to the bathroom, opened and then carefully closed the door behind me, before turning on the light and then shaking my head as I looked at myself in the mirror. How the hell had we got to this? A half an hour ago I was finishing off clearing up the mess, and then had spent the rest of the time since, kissing my mother, running my thumbs across her nipples, and was then in the bedroom as she and Dad had had sex. At the same time as they were having their sex, I masturbated onto their bedroom carpet. The potential for disasters to have happened every step of the way cannot. What really caught the eye, though was her birthmark. I think they call it a 'port wine' mark and it covered maybe half the right side of her face. It's sort of embarrassing. You see it and there's a sort of horrible fascination and you drag your gaze away. Unless, of course you're the sort of person that enjoys making fun and humiliating someone that can't help the way they look. But because you drag your gaze away, you never really see the person behind the birthmark. Her name? Abigail Ferguson.Mike's girlfriend, Sherise, had given him the push at the weekend. He couldn't claim to have been surprised, but he wasn't happy anyway. Sherise wasn't any sort of intellectual, but she was a stunning example of young womanhood ... and had kept him well satisfied. However, she obviously felt rather less satisfied, hence the push.Entering the cafeteria, he almost turned around and left again. There were very few empty places, one of which, next to Sherise with her cronies, was clearly.
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