We often greeted like this when she returned from work finding me at my desk. “Would you like a massage?” she whispered into my ear? (These were ...��code words’ we had developed. It probably meant she had given a massage to someone who was especially sexy and really turned her on. Unable to entertain her fantasies where she worked, she brought them home and was asking me if I was willing to indulge her fantasy.) Turned to look up at her, her eyes were glittering and her tongue wet her lips, but. He had the same reddish blond hair as me. The same face. We compared photos of me when I was young, and they were identical. He had the same birthmarks I had too. If you showed me a D.N.A. result of him not being mine, I would have laughed at it and challenged the test. No way Samuel wasn’t mine.However, my daughter was not the same. Who fathered her was completely unknown to me.? If Abigail knew, she never said anything to me. As far as I knew, she had never said anything to Abby either. I. More

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