Her father lifted an eyebrow as if to say he didn't believe a word of what they'd told him. Abby wondered if he could smell the hint of hot, raw pussy that seemed to float in the heavy air of the patio. She sure could and it was her own aroma too. Carl McNarey rubbed his muscled belly and turned on his heel. He stopped at the French doors.

"Your mother went to bed with a headache. It would be nice if you didn't awaken her before morning." As her father departed down the hall, Abby clucked her tongue. Mother in bed early. That meant that Carl would be spending some time with his sister. As strange as it sounded to her, it seemed natural too. She'd glimpsed them kissing once four years ago when Mona came to stay with them. And then her father's sister moved in to stay. Poor Florence hadn't suspected a thing, Abby knew. Or maybe she knew all and let things go along as always. Florence had never been too hot for lovemaking. It was a wonder her mother had managed to get enough seed shot into her to make three babies. It was only because father was such a virile lover, no doubt. Abby sucked her lip.

"But it is incest," she said aloud. Perry looked up at her from tying his shoe.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Just family secrets."

She was trying to imagine Mona under the heaving body of her father. Mona was a tall woman with very small breasts. She had a continuous tennis tan and her face was wrinkled not so much from her forty-five years as from the constant bombardment from the sun. She wore her gray-blond hair in loose curls. She was a striking woman for her age, much sexier than mother. So it was no surprise that their father was drawn to her. Except for that one, nagging detail. Mona was Carl's sister. For the first time in her life, Abby was really considering the possibility that her father and his sister did more than just kiss. But she hadn't any proof of anything more, had she?