It was a good hour after dinner that I was able to corral my daughter for a private word.“So you met Gerald in school, that right?’ I said.“Yes ...ad. He was a good guy, not all Rushin’ hands and Roamin’ fingers if you get my meaning,” she said. I nodded.“So what does he do for a living? He does have a job, right?” I said. Rodney had already clued me as to the man’s occupation, but I wanted to get her talking about the kid.“He’s a mechanic, Daddy. He makes a good living. We’ll be fine,” she said.. And that for over a month now, whenever she felt like it she'd beenfucking me with that thing, making me her "bitch." So how muchinviolable masculinity could I insist I still had? Why shouldn'tI go on this cruise pretending I was a girl?I tried a last resort. "What about Evan? What if he doesn't wantto go on this cruise under these ... circumstances?" "Evan's willing. Brett's been improving him. A week or so afterthe first videotape, Brett showed it to him and then suggested heshould. More

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