We eventually drank more alcohol and ate some good food and retired for the night an hour later. Upon going to my room, I noticed that there was not a...guest bathroom or shower on the upstairs level of the house. There was a guest shower downstairs, and one main shower in Christina's bedroom.Her husband (Bill) went to work early in the morning as a local accountant, leaving her and I in the house together. I was a bit hungover from my binge drinking the night before and needed to pull myself. "You've been reading too many sexual novels," I responded, but I loved her mature expertise.Our apartment was above a store that sold leather goods to horsemen. At night, the street lights softly lit the rooms. I loved the leather smell from the shop below and the sounds of the street outside; the nightly hoot of a train passing through town called me to imagined destinations.The layout of the apartment was such that my sister's and my bedrooms were at one end of the apartment; my mother's was. More

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