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Aunt Jane had dropped her clothing on the carpet in the bedroom and proceeded without a trace of modesty into the bathroom. I followed her, still grip...ing my t-shirt and shorts in one hand and positioning them tactically in front of my private parts.Aunt Jane turned the valves at the tub, tested the temperature with her hand, then stood and turned toward me. She grinned broadly as she pulled the garments from my hand, tossed them aside, and put her arms around my shoulders to pull me close. She. My little pouch, from years of overstuffing, wouldn't stand up in that gale. Not for a minute. Staring out the tiny square door-window, I considered whether I could put the pouch under my skirt. Hold it dry between my legs until my mother showed up. Something like that. Meanwhile the little window fogged up, and I couldn't see anything, and Beverly had started her playing.The noise of it startled me. I'd never heard her play before. She was good. Did I say good? Did I say noise? She was. More

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