He was 5'10 or so, bald on top with brown and gray hair on the sides, and very stocky, almost overweight. He had to have been in his late 50's, maybe ...early 60's. "Come on in. You must be Denise, Deacon has told me all about you." I entered the foyer and he closed the door behind me. "Nice to meet you. You have a nice house." "Thank you." "Are you Deacon's father?" "Well... not exactly. But I'll take you to him." He walked away through the living room and to a hallway with three doors. He opened. For one, Dixie always wears skirts or dresses. That was one of the things I noticed about her first - her legs. Back then she never showed her legs bare, but encased mostly in nylons. The skirt, much to my disappointment, was always past her knees back then.Then, one day, her skirt was the type that ended just around the knee. The first time she noticed me admiring her in a sexual way, I think it shook her up quite a bit. Here I was, a fourteen year old staring at a woman old enough to be my. Mainly moving from city to city seeing what each is like.” I was hoping that he wouldn’t notice that I hesitated almost admitting that I was using the men for my sexual needs, but I had no such luck. “You were going to say something else; I cannot help but see that you have become a whore to trick your prey. Now I wonder if you have been using it to also gain other necessities.” A small sly smile forms on his face and I find that I am feeling a bunch of emotions: anger, humiliation, and lust.. It's funny looking back, but that's what I thought when I observed her like this when I was sixteen and assessed her with the neutrality of peering at the inside of an appliance you had never seen before.Even as my experience with women expanded and I developed my own sexuality, I would have never looked at my mother in that way. I think there's some biological component, some kind of safeguard for that kind of thing. Or maybe it's only social taboo, but it's a good taboo. Family should not be.