My mother was never mentioned, though I saw the pain in his eyes, once I gave him my address and that of the company I work, and my lawyer's phone in case he, (not her), ever needed to contact me.Beyond that I did not want my mother to be named in my presence, through her memory was my own living hell; I could not rip her from my mind, her memory was an obsession that never left me, and that made me reject other women, I could not have a normal romantic relationship, none of them was my mother, so my contact with them was reduced to the minimum and I looked for sex merely for my sanity (think Oedipus complex.)I wish I had had the balls to tell her that I was in love with her. But I was young and couldn't. She was the reason I couldn't be with any other woman. Being with another woman after just existing in Mom's world would be akin to living in an efficiency apartment after having lived in a Hollywood mansion. I know, it's a bad analogy, but it's as close as I can get.Beyond the fact. When she stops trembling I stop. I jump off the bed, “I’m going to shower and then take one of those pool side loungers, you coming”. “Nah, I’ll sleep off that dreamy pussy rush you’ve just given me and join you later, ta.”I have a quick shower, put on a white cotton hotel peignoir and slippers, and make my way to the pool side. Everyone is naked except for the staff (all female of course) who wear skimpy bikini bottoms, colour coded (Red for pool attendants, Green for drink goffers, Blue for food goffers). I find a lounger that directly catches the last rays of afternoon sunshine: I signal red to have some suntan oil rubbed on me, and green to get a large G and T. I settle down to my relaxation, when Dyke Carol arrives, mutters something about how idyllic this all is and takes up the lounger next to mine, before going quiet. Half an hour or so passes and it is only the two of us left in our corner of the pool.“What sort of fucking half-cocked idiot are you, Miss TANG?” Carol moves.
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