"Mommy wants to know your name," said Alice.I focused back to them. "Barbie." No," sighed Mommy. "What was your name before? Who were you thismorning?...Oh, damn. Alice, ask who she was this morning." Who were you?" Alice repeated."George Trimble," I said with a smile."Where do you live?" wondered the mother."Where do you live?" repeated Alice.I shrugged. "Here?" No, where does George live?" wondered the woman. Out there, I thought,in the rain. Not here. "Oh, Alice ... you ask." Yeah ... George,". "It's so relaxing. You do it very nice."My hair was soon done and it was time to continue with the sponge. However I realized that it was nowhere to be found. Instead, my mother picked up her own washcloth that used in the bathroom. It was something that looked like a kitchen mitten to me and always found it awkward to wash with. As soon as she started lathering my neck and shoulders it dawned to me why my mother was so fond of it. That was not washing. That was a sensual massage she was giving. More

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