Norma O'Toole

Live-in lover

CHAPTER ONE

During the last few months I have lived a life that fluctuated between exquisite pleasure and severe psychological pain. Now that I have finally removed myself from the scene of that experience, I must, so that society understands, tell the entire story. It is a story that is not unique, but it is fare enough to prove both interesting and educational.

My story begins the day my brother and I celebrated our eighteenth birthdays. My name is Lana Morris. Lonnie, my brother, is my twin. We were products of a middle class suburban upbringing that seemed normal in almost every respect. The only major problem was our mother.

The day of our birthday marked the fifth year my mother had confined herself to her room. She was constantly complaining of some illness that an unaccountable number of doctors were unable to successfully diagnose. My father, who was as patient as Job, said that although her pains and illnesses were probably psychological they were still very real to her, and therefore, needed the same respect that was due someone who was physically sick. This was not difficult to do, since our only contact with Mother was a daily goodnight kiss.

Daddy took up the responsibility of being both parents to my brother and me. He was a wonderful, jovial man, who went out of his way to bring sunshine into everyone's life. Single-handedly, he took care of Mother, and still managed to make a better than average living as a producer for a major television station. At thirty-seven years old, he was still the most handsome man I had ever met, and through a vigorous exercise routine, managed to remain in excellent physical condition. I was beginning to realize he was a very sexy man.

We began the night of our birthday together, just Lonnie, Daddy, and myself. Instead of inviting our friends to a large party, we decided to wait until summer when we could use the pool and our large backyard. Daddy brought home a bottle of champagne, and for the first time, we were given permission to partake of an alcoholic beverage.

After dinner, we were about ready to pull the cork on a bottle of champagne when the telephone rang. There was an emergency at the television station, and Daddy was needed to handle the bruised ego of an important talk-show star. We could tell that he was genuinely unhappy about being taken from such a momentous family gathering. He promised that he would make it up to us, and told us to start on the champagne without him.

My brother and I were disappointed, but we knew that nothing could be done. Left alone, we began to drink the sweet, bubbly wine. This was a new experience for us, and it made us feel very adult.

Both Lonnie and I were pretty naive about life. It seemed that our teenage years were geared toward preparing us for college. Our friends, likewise, were pursuing the same goals, so therefore our education and life experience was, for the most part, rooted in academics. We, of course, knew that drinking, boy-girl relationships, and sex existed, but our knowledge of these things did not go much further than that.

So now that my brother and I were both feeling the effects of alcohol for the first time, it did not seem strange that Lonnie would bring up the topic of sex during our wide ranging conversation. We were very close, as twins usually are, and were very rarely embarrassed by our bodies or their functions. But this was the first time either of us had ever discussed the subject of sex.

"Lana," Lonnie began, "do you think I'm sexy?"