After glancing at them briefly, I quickly shoved them back in the envelope. I was mortified. They were nude photos of me pole dancing at the club. My ...other started to cry.“Th-this…” I stammered. “Let me explain. Dad—”“Don’t ever call me Dad again!” His furious eyes pierced through mine. “I no longer have a daughter. You’re just some prostitute that happens to have my last name. How could you do this to your mother?”“But Dad, it’s not what it looks like!”“What possible explanation could you. Ask them if they used to.”“You’ve stopped?”“Most of my sexual fantasies now involve you,” he said.She thought of several snippy answers, but she didn’t use them. The truth was that she had had sexual fantasies involving him, too.That was different. For one thing, they weren’t really fantasies; they were mostly memories. For another, they didn’t occur every day.Then she thought about other men, strangers passing in the street, having sexual fantasies about her. For the first time, she was glad. More

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