During the 40-mile trip to the beach house, there was not much talk. Linda was enjoying the wind in her hair. The sun was shining and the temperature ...ad risen to seventy-nine degrees. Balmy weather had always made her feel sexy... and they would have the house to themselves. No more spying, none of Mom's controlling.Mom had become so damned paranoid... and suspicious. Linda recalled the quarrel between Mom and herself over the bedroom keys. Mom wanted to prevent them from locking the doors.. Leaving for work after these morning thoughts always left me aroused and frustrated, like a lightening rod on a clear day. My urges were still present, but their outlet was nullified by my mental block. The still-life reality of my dead wife turned me only toward the two-dimensional models of Mr. Paul Raymond Publications?and towards incestuous thoughts of my daughter.* * *Hungry, on the train home after work, I turned over the conversations I had just had, turning them over like. More

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