"You and Mandy?" she asked, sympathetically."No."He looked over at her helplessly."Bob ... on top of you." Oh," she said, faintly."I don't understand,... he moaned."I love him," she said, helplessly."No, that's not that I mean." Then what?" I can't understand why thinking about that gives me a boner," he said."Daddy?"Mandy's voice was hesitant. She was standing in the doorway to his bathroom, something she'd done hundreds of times before. He was putting lotion on his beard, to soften it and keep. She was not anyone’s picture of beauty, including mine. She had a round face, and looked very very British. Her breasts were large, but in a maternal way, not an alluring way. Her hips were large. She was wide, but not fat. She looked sort of rednecky, and looked like she did a lot of hard labor around her house.“Top ‘o the mornin’ to ya,” she said, “Oi’m Cheryl an’ yew look loike yer starvin’, cowl’, an’ strong.”“All three,” I told her, confused. “My name is Johnny, by the way.”“Pleasure ter. More

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