I don't know what, or who, I expected to see as Ientered the room, but still, when confronted with what was there, I gotthe shock of my life. My hunky son was there, sat on the sofa in jeans anda tight t-shirt that showed off his rippling muscles, but there were threeother people in the room as well. Three people that I recognised, that Iknew very well. Next to my son on the sofa sat my wife's sister, Helen,and across the room, still standing, were my nephews, her two sons, Mattand Chris.Helen was a couple of years older than my wife, taller and skinnier,without my wife's curves and incredible breasts. She was not quite sobeautiful but still looked pretty great for a woman in her late forties.She was dressed in a simple blouse and knee length skirt. Her sons wereaged 19 and 21, both tall and thin as well. They were quite good lookingalthough not such incredible specimens of muscular masculinity as my son.To be honest, I had seen them grow up and had not ever really thought ofthem as. The beer was obviously getting the better of both of them by this time, and when Mr Weston had a few on board, he used to speak dramatically, and exaggerate everything. “Justin, my man,” he said, as my dad stood swaying behind him, “There has been a disaster!”I saw a look of alarm on Katy’s face, but I knew it was just the way Mr Weston talked when he was tipsy, and he went on with, “We’ve run out of beer,” announcing it with the gravity of a man saying, “There’s been a terrible earthquake in Peru.” He took a set of car keys from a hook on the wall, and held them out to me, saying, “I request that you chauffer your dear old papa and me to the nearest intoxatorium, so we can continue with our bacchanalian revelry. You may drive us there in my Valiant. It’s time you got behind the wheel of an engineering thoroughbred for a change.” I took the keys, and looked at Katy, who smiled, and said, “I think I’ll come along for the ride.” We walked out to the front of Mr Weston’s house, and I.
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