He's good-looking in a crude way, I guess, sorta like Sylvester Stallone, only taller and a lot mote stuck on himself. When Mom met him, she was thirty-six and he was thirty-one and he must have seemed like a fantastic catch for a woman slipping into middle age and kinda desperate. My daddy died when I was ten and I guess she was getting lonely. This younger, muscled hunk comes along and she just falls like an apple in season. It happens all the time, they tell me. And so one day I had a brand new daddy in the house and Mom didn't have to sleep by herself any longer.

I used to hear them going at it all night long, sometimes. I suppose he really socked it to her. She used to moan in the dark, and it sounded like a coyote on the prowl. The bedsprings rattling and creaking, Tony making soft little grunting noises like a bass-line for Mom's higher-pitched cries. For a while she looked as if she'd been able to turn back the aging process altogether. Her cheeks pinkened and her eyes sparkled and she looked very, very happy.

Me? Well, I was fifteen when they got married, and I was already starting to blossom a little, if you know what I mean. My breasts were still small, mostly swollen, aching nipples, but they were too big to hide under a cotton undershirt or camisole any longer. My waist began to nip in and my hips to fill out, and I had my first period about two months after the wedding, and I knew that I was swiftly turning into a woman.

I wasn't the only one who noticed. I think the first time I caught him, I was around thirteen. In my room, innocently getting dressed for a sock hop at the junior high. I remember I had just slipped out of my sweatshirt and was reaching for my pink, flower-cup bra. My jeans were laid out on the bed, and I wasn't wearing anything except my panties and fluffy slippers. I picked up my bra and there was a curious sensation at the roots of my teeth, a kind of nervous tingle. What's that? I wondered, and then I made a half-turn and looked at my bedroom window, and there he was. Tony. My stepfather. Leaning on the window frame, watching me through the glass. His mouth was turned up at the corners in a dirty, knowing smile.