... Imean.... I killed a cat."A long pause. Then, "Why are you lying to me?"?/// (UH-OH!) ///"What do you mean, Father?"?"You're a gentle boy. You lov... animals. I saw that painting you didthat's hanging in the post office, of the cat and the dog sleepingsnuggled up against each other. There's no way you killed a cat! And Idon't really believe you stole that bike either. What's going on here,Jackie?"?I'd never considered that my confessions might be cross-examined.Father Anthony's predecessor. The problem, then, was that down there the sore muscles always continued down into your butt, the waistband of whatever you happened to be wearing being a line of demarcation; satisfaction could never be complete.This time, though, Mom's hands continued down over the fabric. The natural line of progression to the backs of my thighs, and eventually my calves. My toes were turning with the full pleasure of it all. She took her fingers all the way to play with the toes.Then she gave a light slap. More

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