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Janice felt the flush of embarrassment flood her face and just as quickly drain away replacing her normally wholesome glow with a blanched, colorless pallor. Just when she thought she had her emotions all under control... this. She wanted to rush from her son's room. She wanted to stay and look.

Mark stood in front of her holding up his gown with one hand, his other circling his monstrous erection which was pointing at her like an obscene signpost. His face was red, his eyes were wide and glued to her not unlike the look of a deer when it gets caught in the headlights of a fast approaching automobile on a dark country road. Frozen.

"I didn't mean to... barge in." Why was she feeling so guilty? Janice knew exactly why.

Despite the fact that they had done it -- several times over the past week, in fact -- Janice had not seen Mark's penis as it was always covered by his gown. Yes, she had touched it to guide him inside of her. Yes, she had felt how it had stretched her vagina. She remembered how sore she had been for the first few days. But she had refused to let herself think about it. And now...

Now Mark was standing, for all intents and purposes, on display in front of her. For the first time, she was actually faced with the nonordinariness of their reality. There it was. The thing she hadn't wanted to think about. The thing that kept their encounters from becoming "personal". The thing that she had been guiding between her legs. That he had been putting into her vagina. The thing that deposited the sperm deep in her womb so that they could conceive a child.

Janice wanted to laugh aloud at how ludicrous it was for her to be shocked. Perhaps it was more the fact that she had deluded herself into thinking that this was all just on the government's orders. That there was nothing personal at all about... About what?? Nothing personal about fucking??

She knew that she was being harsh on herself. That it had just been a way of protecting her sensibilities -- and those of her son -- but the fact remained. The reality of it was suddenly, starkly so "in-her-face" that she didn't know what to say or do. Janice was disgustingly fascinated and it made her sick to her stomach. She could only imagine how it made Mark feel.

Well, he was more than obviously "ready". Perhaps they could just get it over with and go on yet again. Yes, that's what she would do.

Fighting back the urge to touch it -- to see just how small her hand looked when her fingers circled his girth to guide him, Janice Fleming reached out and touched the wrist of the hand that was holding up his gown, pulling it free.

"Come," Jan said quietly with a tilt of her chin toward the other bedroom, her fingers slipping down to squeeze her son's hand as she held it and led him across the hall.