"Mike, I told you I didn't want to hear you say that again," she said, trying to sound firm, but failing. She felt him shaking and pulled him against her body, hugging him, resting his head on her chest and running her hand through his hair. "You're not sorry it happened. I know. I can tell. Besides, I'm not."

She felt him take a deep breath.

"I'm not at all sorry," she whispered softly, kissing the top of his head and caressing his shoulders.

"You're not?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"No, honey."

"I didn't mean to… you know, let that happen, Mom."

She hugged him, feeling his deep breathing. She considered a few moments, then said, her voice very soft: "I'm glad it happened, Mike."

He didn't answer her.

"It was good," she went on. "It was very good and I needed it. I think you did, too."

"It was my first time, Mom," he confessed.

"I thought so," she replied, pleased by his answer.

"I'll make sure it doesn't happen ever again," Mike said.

"But, Mike," Donna answered quickly. "I might want it to happen again."

Mike lifted his head, looking at her. "You might?"

Donna nodded her head. "Listen, honey. I'm going to tell you something about me. Listen closely, because you might like what I say."

Donna told him about her and the his father, of the fiery passions they shared, of almost becoming involved with others. Mike listened closely, his interest obvious in his young, burning eyes. She told of how their father had developed this dormant passion inside her, of the crazy positions they would get into. She spoke without hesitation, without shyness, but boldly and straightforward.

"And, Mike," she concluded, "It was fun. I loved it, every minute of it. Your father used me, my body, the way he wanted, but I never once felt degraded nor humiliated. I loved it, Mike! Do you understand?"