“Okay, then. Don’t stay up too late or Santa won’t come.”“He does this every year,” said Barbie, to Monica. “He insists Santa is real.�...“Because he is,” said Bob, his voice calm.“It’s okay, Daddy,” said Barbie, as if she were talking to an Alzheimer patient. “We understand.”“So, this is to keep me from having sex with your brother ... right?” suggested Monica.“Originally, it was,” admitted Julie. “But now we really want to get to know you better. You can have sex with him any time you want when. I hurried past the greeting room, clicked past through the ballroom, and found the servants door that led down to the basement. Painfully, I strutted down the hallway to my room.Like the mansion I had inherited, the room was huge. But where as the mansion was styled in marble and columns and high ceilings, my room was not. The ceiling was low, the floor a cheap green linoleum the color of puke, and the walls were coated in rubber. I had had to paint the rubber with cum, and the smell of it was. More

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