Yet, she had never married and never had dated much. She'd always been scared of men and of fucking. She'd made up her mind, as a very young girl, that she was going to remain a spinster all her life. She had never met anyone who changed her mind.

So why did she keep thinking about those filthy magazines under the bed and wondering what other pictures might be there?

She tried to keep her mind off it as she dressed in a full-length nightgown, robe, and slippers and brushed her black hair a hundred strokes. She put her brushes down as she heard a timid knock on the door.

She was sure that it was the boys coming to apologize about how they had acted. Perhaps she would forgive them if they were contrite enough. They were just boys, and boys went through that dirty period where they were always thinking about sex. It was natural. But it could get out of hand if it wasn't nipped in the bud.

She put on her stern expression as she walked to the door. She undid the lock and opened it. Stan was in the hall, but he didn't look like he was there to apologize. He looked angry.

He wasn't wearing his undershirt.

"You know I don't like it when you don't wear your clothes around the house," she said.

"Did you really mean that about the car?" Stan asked. "You'd tell Mother not to let us have it?"

"Of course I would," she said in a determined voice. "I will, if I think you don't deserve it."

Bonnie did not expect what happened next. Her nephew smiled but it only lasted a second. She caught a quick glimpse of anger in his eyes and she backed away. She wasn't quick enough. His fist caught her flush in the jaw. Bonnie had never been struck by anyone in her life. She lost her balance and fell on the floor. She started to get up – but suddenly all three of her nephews were in her room.