He wore ironed jeans and a light blue sweater over a crisp white shirt and nice brown, leather loafers. He sipped his tea and turned the page. I sort of hoped he would look up and see me. I had a sexy thought about him but I wondered if I would be his type, being much younger, of Latin descent and a home body at this time in my life. I had noticed one day, when I left for my town adventures, that he had a woman friend there. She was closer to his age, maybe fifty-five or so. Very beautiful and classy in her black pumps and manicured style. Would he like me? He'd only ever said hello to me since I had moved in. I watched him sometimes from my window but never had the nerve to say more than hello. I actually started to have a little crush on him and thought of him during my morning bath. I thought of him as a polite, gentleman most of the time but I fantasized about how he would go wild with me. The weeks passed and I met a nice guy in town that I lunched with a couple of times. He. She had decided to become one, but she would never be a leader. That was bestowed on the children of Mothers.The best warriors were chosen for Mothers (and her father had been one of the best) and they would father one child after another until the Mother herself decided to settle down.“Stop now”, her leader had ordered after one too many questions. “If you want to know more, speak to Sváfa, she was a Mother a long time ago.”Sváfa told her about men who never lost a battle, never bowed down, who fucked her raw. Her eyes lightened, her gaze dreamy. Her white hair and wrinkly face seemed to glow.“There were many”, she said with a rasp in her voice, “too many to count. Sometimes I had ten a day. I was tired and didn’t know if I could come another time, if I could enjoy it so soon again, but I savoured every day and if I had told them to stop, they would have done it instantly.”“What about your children? Did you see them? Were they taken from you?”, she asked, because she had seen no.
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