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And these most often eventually found their way up her nose or ingested in a ceremony more elaborate and often more pleasurable than the lovemaking it was intended to supplement. At long last, there was the customary uneasy halt to the performance where the audience looked around at one another to judge whether an applause was required. And this would soon break forth when the cue was given by a couple of firm handclaps: usually initiated by Sir Kenneth who himself relied on a discrete nod from his decidedly cultured and foul-breathed cultural curator. And then like waves crashing on the beach or, more often, a strong wind against the window, applause would break out amongst Sir Kenneth’s thirty or forty guests and continue until Sir Kenneth judged that it was time to stand up and stride, still clapping appreciatively, to the dais in front of the gathered audience. Inevitably, this wasn’t to be the end of the tedious cultural entertainment. Susan wasn’t going to be let off that. This all came to a head shortly after my sixteenth birthday. Mom was called away on business. By this time I had figured out the purpose of Mom’s cache of toys and had begun to accumulate toys of my own and to experiment with them. I masturbated regularly. That is to say when I woke up in the morning, in the afternoon after school, and in the evening when I retired. Perhaps, somehow, Dad had become aware of this propensity. One evening while Mom was gone, Dad fixed a particularly nice dinner and presented it more elegantly than usual. It was ordinary for me to have a bit of wine with dinner, usually cut with an equal part of water. On this evening, Dad omitted the water and refilled my glass when it was emptied. I had a sense of being particularly special, and of this being a particularly special occasion, although the only thing out of the ordinary was that Mom was away and not expected home for several days. It was just the two of us. I was swelled up with pride and wine. As I have.
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