Chapter 2

“So, after all the bickering and wasting time, what do we do now, Jack?” Mum asked. She was clearly ready to get started “modeling”.

“Right, you lot, your kits are off,” Jack gave her his trademark cocky smirk, and addressed the three of us as if he truly was in charge. “Let’s make Mum’s fantasy a reality – we’ll start off with something easy, not very challenging! Think of it as a warm-up! I am the director, I’ll brook no interruptions, or outside instruction. I want you to be natural and comfortable, but most of all, I want you girls to fall in line and follow instructions!”

Easy for him to say – he wasn’t the one who had to be naked and get this picture taken!!

“I want to capture everything, the highs and lows of it, the smiles and the natural expressions – you just do what I tell you, focus on being an open book – no inhibition. Don’t think about being naked if all you do today is what I tell you, we’ll be done by lunch, and that’s it! Fair enough?”

I felt like it didn’t matter if we said yes or not, it was a foregone conclusion, and we were already naked. Jack seemed to want to hear us confirm we agreed- but interestingly he even wanted Mum to confirm it out loud for him that she understood what he was asking. I couldn’t believe he’d talk to her like she was one of us -but he’d already been confident enough to call her by her first name, so why not?

“Oh me?” Sure, Jack! Whatever you say!” she giggled like a silly schoolgirl. Mum was just happy we were starting.

“Relax, girls! Let’s do one start by standing together—Mum in the middle, arms linked. Like a family portrait! Get in close! Smile, forget you are naked! No inhibitions – crowd together and we’ll do some portrait shots -smile, stand up straight, look pleased to be there! straight at the camera for this one!”

“Naked?” Joy deadpanned, earning a chuckle from Mum. Mum didn’t seem the least bit shy about it at all – it was like she thought the two of us were silly for thinking there was any other way to take a family portrait than in the raw.

“Wait,” I interjected, narrowing my eyes at Jack. “How is it a family portrait without you in it? Isn’t the whole point to capture the entire family?”

I wasn’t exactly nervous—at least, not any more than usual. But it still felt strange, standing there starkers for a “family portrait” with our bits out, while Jack stayed fully dressed.

Jack lowered his phone just enough to lock eyes with me- disturbed I was already questioning him as director. I hadn’t intended to be confrontational; that was usually Joy’s thing. “I’m not the photogenic one anyway. This way, the focus stays on you lot.”

I wasn’t buying it. “This is just so you don’t have to strip off. I could take one of you, Mum, and Joy if that’s the issue.”

Mum was having none of it. “Jack’s the artist; we’re the models. You’d do well to remember that, Sophie!” She said it so sharply, it was like I’d asked something utterly mad. “It’s the three of us! I told Jack this morning—the only way I’ll do this is with you and Joy. So, stop trying to get Jack to whip out his plonker and wiggle it around.

“Thank you, Joanne!” Jack sounded positively delighted. I still couldn’t get over my little brother’s sheer audacity addressing our Mum as Joanne. I’d never have heard the end of it if I had tried that.

I was mortified – I hadn’t meant that I wanted to see my brother’s penis. I’d seen it plenty of times when we were younger and bathing, and I’d seen more than my share of cocks -it wasn’t that I was a total slag. I just dated around (couldn’t keep interest in one boy for very long). I’d seen foreskins, and circumcised, ones that curved right, left and even one that hooked upward! Mostly mediums and little-wee ones, but I’d even made it with a black guy. The last thing that I wanted was to brag about my experience with cocks.

“I don’t crave to see Jack’s willy! It’s just not FAIR that he gets clothes, and we’ve got to be fully exposed.”

I realized I had accidentally fucked up the minute that I used the word fair with my Mum. It’s not that my Mum was unfair – at least that’s not how she saw it. In her mind, it was as silly for a girl to want to be able to do the same things a boy can do, as it was for a dog to want to do the same things a person can do.

I fully expected an incoming lecture about girls trying to be football players and astronauts, and the natural order, and what she called the ‘female condition’ – I usually tuned those lectures out.

“I am not going to argue with you about fair, Sophie! Fair is fair, all the women in the house are naked, and the photographer doesn’t strip! Then it would just be barmy! When have you ever heard of such a thing!”

“Exactly, Joanne, looking good!” my brother had the audacity to take informal snaps of us just as we were talking around the kitchen, while addressing our Mum by her first name!! Yet, I couldn’t ask about fairness.

“Oooh! Hehe,” Mum cooed, almost like hearing her first name the third or fourth time made her a star. This time, she wasn’t outraged or uncomfortable when Jack said it at all. “I do see why you chose that arrangement—I approve of that, Jack.”

“Glad that you do,” Jack replied, raising his phone with a cheeky grin. “But remember, for now, you’re not Mum the frumpy-—” what was she anyway? Not a housewife, certainly. “You’re Joanne Marsh, the sexy goddess!”

“If that’s the case, my maiden name’s Crump!” Mum quipped with a laugh, “Not Frumpy-Crumpy, either! Joanne Crump, Page three Superstar, Introducing her beauties, Joy and Sophie Marsh! Smile girls, stop frowning! Stop being so frigid!”

“Even better—Joanne Crump!” Jack declared triumphantly before adding sternly “Don’t tell the other models how to pose! I’ll handle that, Mrs. Crump! You are a movie star! You just worry about doing what I tell you and leave that to me! Joy and Sophie! I want you to be natural -I want you to be open books! Right now, your covers are closed! Open your pages up!”

Crump? I love my Mum dearly, but that last name sounded like something you’d drop in the loo after a dodgy curry -and what was Jack on about, an open book? The nerve!

“Listen to your brother, girls! I won’t say boo to you; as long as your brother turn to the proper page!”

“Oh, that’s clever! I love it,” Jack kissed her ass and Mum melted like butter for that – giving him an even bigger, warm smile. The worst part of it was? I felt like a bit of a tosser because Mum was having such a good time – the least I could do was smile, so I painted one on my face for her. I noticed my sister did the same.

“Jack, could we do a few snaps like we are on Naked Attraction? We could stand over by the wall with our hands by our sides like we’re the finalists, and somehow has to choose between the old fatty, the frowny ice-princess, and the quiet mouse!” Mum offered helpfully.

“Joanne, I am going to hand you the camera if you want to direct. You had all morning to tell me your ideas for a shoot and I’ve already got enough ideas for today to keep us going until lunch! Maybe even teatime!” Jack countered. The boy had a lot of bottle to just talk down to our Mum that way. I’d have never had the courage.

“What about tomorrow? It’s Sunday; would you mind doing a few more? Just a couple, if we can do the Naked Attraction, Jack? Please?”

How about that? Mum practically begged Jack to simply stand there and press the button on his phone. We could have replaced him with a selfie-stick or a tripod and no one would be the wiser!

“I don’t know,” Jack scratched his head like this was some great imposition to him. What did he have to do in South Godstone on a Sunday? Natter with the Vicar down at Saint Stephens?

Funny story about the last vicar, Me and my sister both shagged the last Vicar, but neither of us knew about the other one until they moved him to another Church out in Africa somewhere. He was young and handsome, the new Vicar is old and bald, but just as handsy, so he’s right out.

My brother is a handsome enough bloke. He reminds me of Suggs, the lead singer from the band Madness when he was back in his younger years. Joy and I like to jokingly ask Mum if she’d been to any Madness concerts years ago and went “ONE ... STEP ... BEYOND!!”

“C’mon please, Jack? You know that Naked Attraction is my favorite show, besides Goggle-box! I’d love to pretend I have a chance up there against these two slags!” She quipped. My mom didn’t mean anything by that – she teases us all the time like that.

“You know that I can’t say no to you, Three slags coming up, yellow, green, and blue! Whose tits do you like best, these majestic knockers,” he pointed to Mum, and I was already frowning because I knew I was going to be the punch line to whatever joke Jack was about to tell. “Slightly-above bog standard tits from Surrey,” Jack teased my sister. She’s got more than decent Tits I would say! He should be lucky she was even letting him look at her breasts! I share a room with her, and when we change – even I get a little excited by Joy’s tits.

Joy had no reason to shoot him the evil eye, but she did anyway. Now it was my turn, what was he going to say? There were so many possibly ways he could put my tiny boobies down. I was already instinctively bringing my hands up to cover my tits. “Or Blue, we call her Blue because she blew the security guard, the cameraman, the director, and three audience members before the show!”

That wasn’t so bad. I could live with being ridiculed as loose. Obviously, it was hyperbole – I barely even gave head to my boyfriends. As I said, we have a bit of a randy sense of humor and usually I’d fire right back at my brother, but I had a feeling an outburst would just earn me longer “modeling” tomorrow. It was a foregone conclusion in my mind that Mum had just volunteered us for a Sunday afternoon “session” as well.

Jack posed us standing up straight, but said he’d figure out something better for tomorrow and this was just a practice run. Imagine, having to stand straight like you are getting a mugshot, except it’s front of 100,000s of Brits, and you are basically telling everyone you’ll show your puss to everyone in order to get a date? And then come away with not having a good enough to even get past the first round? I’d have been devastated!”

“You can only pick one,” Bloody hell, Jack wasn’t done play acting as Anna Richardson. He’d definitely goose me with a tiny titty insult this time. “Will it be the Poolie in Yellow with her Magnificent Melons, Green, the Goth from Godstone, with the bubble butt that could crack walnuts and the permanent scowl like she’s smelled a fart,” Jack said with a straight face.

I have to admit, that I chuckled, and Joy was caught so flat-footed by that one she almost laughed too. I was almost looking forward to the shellacking I was going to get just to hear if it was as good a burn as that last one.

“Or will it be tiny Red, the Surrey stick insect, with a gash so thick, you’ll have to bugger her up the ass if you want any action, and the most adorable puffy nubbins you could almost call them Bee stings!”

I blushed -Jack was being merciless!

“That’s just cruel!” I cried out!” while my sister and Mum chuckled – my Mum laughing the loudest. If it wasn’t so specific and directed at fucking me in the ass, I might have just let it roll off my back!

“Oh, stop your whinging Sophie!” Mum chastised me for even daring to get upset. “Did you just come up with that zinger off the top of your head, Jack?”

“Yeah,” Jack answered modestly as he captured my unhappy frown on film forever.

“Do me, then! Please? Like that? Don’t hold back! You did the girls better than me! Roast me, Go on then, Jack” Mum was elated to invite Jack to roast her. I loved my mom more than anything in the world – but I was hoping he zapped her with the cruelest, most bitter and scathing critique of her body he could. She had a bit of a belly, buck teeth, glasses, droopy Jugs, a big bottom, and an even hairier quim than me! He probably would dare go there, but she had an upturned piggy nose like Nicola Coughlin, and Mum’s thick red and curlies were so thick and mangy and my Mum was so old-fashioned that she probably hadn’t ever shaved since she started growing them in. Then again, she really didn’t date since Dad left– so who did she have to trim them up for?

“Okay! But you can’t be mad!” Jack insisted.

“You are the host of the show – give me both barrels, Jack!” Mum clearly seemed to want to hear the raunchiest introduction Jack could come up with off the top of his head. She was already giggling with anticipation. I changed my mind. I didn’t want my Mum’s feelings to be hurt. I wanted Jack to go a bit too far, and make Mum cancel our next session. I was already doing this one and hoped it would be over soon enough. Jack had told us just through lunch, so there was no point in being too greedy with my wish.

“Fine, stand there Yellow, pose for the audience at home, hold that hairy quim open so the blokes at home can see the entire tangled mess – danker and deeper than Nutfield Marsh, stanker than a Welsh bog after an Oasis concert, and wetter than the English channel – desperate for it, she is. Take a gander at those piss flaps!”

Jack took some snaps of my mum while she smiled and held herself open, grinning like she was in on the joke.

“You can take a ride on Yellow, Blackpool’s finest seaside sow, with droopy udders, a gut like a pub landlord, and a quim that looks like a bird’s nest no one’s cleaned since the ‘80s. How about that ass? Yellow turn around for the gentleman and let him see that ass! Sir, you can park your car in there when you go on a date!” Jack spun his fingers around and told her to let the imaginary contestant she was trying to woo with her naked body see what he could go home with - by pulling her arse cheeks apart if the house was wide enough and she was strong enough to lift them.

I assumed that my Mum would call it quits there.

Cruel, mean-spirited, not even funny to me – I wanted to take back my wish, because I felt that cruel joke in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t even about ME -it was about Mum. Joy was throwing eye daggers at him with her stare for the same reason.

She went right along with the game, exposing herself in the most grandiose way – giggling like a school girl who suddenly had all of the boys’ attention when she learned she could show her knickers and get all eyes on her. My mum was all-in, and found the raunchy mock game-show routine to be the most fun she’d had so far!

“Oi, Settle, Joy! That was quite an introduction. I doubt Anna Richardson could do a funnier introduction! That was a laugh, Jack! Thank you for that one! It’s always been my dream to appear on Naked Attraction, but I’ve thought I was such a cow that I’d be laughed off the stage for sure!”

Mum was beside herself, hysterical! Already turned around dancing back and forth, grabbing her big butt and spreading completely! “Oh, hoo-hoooo! That was cold! You got me on that one! I felt a stabbing right here,” She pointed to her arse and then dropped her cheeks and danced back around to the front. “How did you do that so fast? You had to have had that one prepared for years and ready to lock and load to give me that one?”

If I had to guess, my mum was hot to trot and dripping wet due to the excitement – all chuckles and belly laughs over being skewered by her son as if she were a contestant on Naked Attraction.

“No, I just kinda thought about what someone would say if they are trying to give it to someone. Use a bit of truth, and what you know they are sensitive about. You don’t give a rip about your glasses, so I thought you’d probably be a little hurt! I am glad you liked it!” Jack was proper proud of himself for making my Mum so giddy.

“Oh, what are you lot so down about?” Mum scolded us for staring angrily at Jack. What did she want us to do? Applaud him for bagging on our Mum? That went far beyond the pale of what anyone might say for a joke!

“Anna Richardson doesn’t even put down the guests like that,” my sister fired back.

“Caw, who are you to dictate how the game is played? Jack would be a clever host, and he’d have to do it a bit different than she would, wouldn’t he?” Mum scoffed and dismissed my sister’s concerns.

“Those were cruel!” I finally declared.

“Oh, a little cruelty never hurt anyone, if anything it’s good to be taken off your high horse now and again? You don’t think I know I have a fat gut, and an ass like a bag of spanners? You’ve got small tits. The worst thing that can happen is you start to think you don’t because everyone’s too afraid to say it to you and you start to think your shit doesn’t stink like Joy!”

Today, I had heard my Mum say a little rain, a little hard work, and a little snow never hurt anyone all the time. Today was the first day that I ever heard her use the term ‘a little humiliation never hurt anyone’ and at the time I didn’t say anything. Now, she said a little cruelty never hurt anyone. It could hurt their feelings!

I was surprised My Mum didn’t seem to think so. She’d probably say the opposite if I had said something that scathing to her precious Jack!

Jack clapped his hands together to get our attention before Joy could unload on our Mum for saying something about her ego, his grin firmly in place. “Having shared a loo with Green all of my life, I can assure you that Joy’s shit stinks, and so does every one of you! Sorry guys, if I went too far! Now, can I get my barmy little contestants to pay attention and show their hairy little cunnies - tits out, stand straight, smile for once - instead of doing fuck-knows-what and taking the piss!”

“Nonsense, please do that tomorrow!! That was fun! It felt like I was on the show, and the host just turned and saw me up there and thought – what is this slapper doing up here! I better warn the lads before the pick her!! Do you have time to write a few more before tomorrow?”

Clearly, Mum meant to continue the scenario into roleplaying territory! This was already humiliating enough without giving Jack the freedom to critique our bodies!

“Sure, I’ll just think of some off the top of my head!”

“Just throw them out when you think of them! it’s all in fun! We all Love each other – if we can’t laugh at each other, who can we laugh at?”

“Alright, let’s continue, Ladies. Let’s go back to what I planned for today, and I’ll think of some observations about your badly packed kebabs!! Heads up, shoulders back. Joy, a little less sulky, if you can manage it. Sophie, stop shrinking into yourself. Think statuesque—like something you’d see in a gallery.”

“Badly packed kebabs? Hoo-hoo, you mean our fanny?” Mum pointed to her pussy. Who uses to describe their pussy these days? “Did you just make that up?”

“I didn’t make that up, and I won’t do anymore, Joanne if you are going to disrupt the session laughing like a drain! If you keep at it, I’ll put you on half-rations for tea today at lunch!” He teased.

“You are in charge of the meal plans, Jack! I’ll be a proper kebab! We all will! Sorry!” Mum giggled playfully through pie-eyes for Jack. I’ll give it to him, I was envious. Not that I would ever do it, but he could get away with calling Mum by her first name, full on insulting her, talking down to her while taking naked pictures of her, and then even jokingly mentioning he’d restrict her from tea!

My mom’s a proper English tea-fanatic! I’d love to see him try that, if he thought she was serious.

I could hardly believe we were naked in our stodgy living room – what on earth would these pictures look like when we were done? I wasn’t sure that I wanted to see how silly this all looked when it was over.

Mum—Joanne, as Jack was now calling her—linked arms with us and gave him a bright smile. “How’s this, love?”

“Perfect, Joanne,” Jack said smoothly, already angling his phone. “Joy, chin up a bit. Sophie, shift your weight to one leg—it’ll look more natural. Yes, just like that. Hold it ... brilliant.”

The faint shutter sound from his phone filled the room as Jack moved around us, snapping photos from different angles. I could feel the initial tension slowly easing; even Joy let out a small laugh when Mum made a joke about feeling like the Venus de Milo. Against my better judgment, I found myself loosening up, though it still felt ridiculous.

“You’re naturals,” Jack said, his tone genuinely pleased. He gestured for us to adjust. “Alright, Joanne, step forward a bit. Joy and Sophie sit on the floor behind her, like a tableau. Joanne, cross your arms like you’re guarding the whole of the British empire. Yes, just like that!”

I had to sit my bare bum on the old shag carpet – scratchy, boggy, carpet we walk on day in and day out and Mum barely passes the roller over it to pick up the big bits of dirt.

I have to admit, even as unpleasant as it all was, that this was kind of a thrill – the carpet was scratchy like a dish sponge – it might be dirty, but it made me a little thirsty to spend some time upstairs finishing the job after lunch. I’d half a mind to make a joke about snail trails but, I was afraid my Mum would bite my head off for being too vulgar and pin a medal on Jack when he said that I had left poo tracks along with cummy-juice trails because I was on heat! I was still steaming he had been able to get away with saying those things about us and Mom had just ordered a fresh lot of more for us!

I’d do anything to let her live out her fantasy of being a page three starlet in the Daily Star because she was loving this – but ... well, to be honest, I wasn’t the type to rock the boat. I’d do it, and I already knew not to make plans for Sunday afternoon – not that I had any.

Mum beamed, striking a regal pose while Jack continued to tell us to lift our butts, or shake our hair, and part our lips. I wanted Joy flopped down next to me, muttering under her breath as we adjusted ourselves on the carpet. “Are you believing this?” she whispered, her tone somewhere between incredulous and amused. I really was NOT believing we were all doing this.

It seemed zany, not sexual, but at the same time, more than a bit naughty even though we were related.

Before I could respond, Jack barked, “Models! Quiet on the set! You want me to cut your cheese sandwiches in half!” His exaggerated seriousness earned a stifled laugh from Joy and an eye roll from me.

Joy glared at him with her “Go on, do it, I DARE you,” face. She’s a pussycat, if Mum actually let this wanker have that kind of authority, she’d probably go right along with it and complain under her breath just like she was about the modeling.

I had reason enough to complain, and I thought about it plenty, but there was no point in popping off about it. Mum was having the time of her life; we’d be on lunch soon and we’d have another day of this humiliation to get through -life would go on. We were already naked; pictures were already taken. A few more, or a few hundred more, wouldn’t change that, any more than whinging would be useless. It would just make Jack look like a Saint and us like sour-faced bitches who dragged their feet when Mum wanted to have a special day with all of us.

This isn’t the special day that I would have chosen, but there was no denying, she was practically radiant and over the moon with the whole thing.

“Oh, listen to him now!” Mum—Joanne Crump, apparently—teased, throwing her arms wide like she was center stage. “You’d think we were on a bloody runway in Milan!”

Jack gave her an approving nod, keeping his tone professional. “That’s the spirit, Joanne Crump—the sexy goddess herself. Now, back to your marks!”

The photoshoot continued, with Jack directing us like we were in some high-brow magazine spread. At one point, he had us move in front of the TV. “Joanne, strike a pose like you’re presenting the evening news. Girls, flank her like game show hostesses.”

The absurdity of it all made me stifle a laugh, but I had to admit, Jack had a knack for making the whole thing feel ... oddly professional.

Joy leaned closer as we rearranged ourselves, whispering again. “He’s gone barmy.”

“Quiet!” Jack hissed, pointing dramatically at us with his phone. “I can hear you. Hostesses don’t talk. They smile.”

Mum’s head snapped toward Joy, her voice sharp and commanding. “One more word, young lady, and I’ll make you pick up those panties you just threw on the kitchen floor for me to pick up later, and stuff them in your mouth to gag you. Now behave!”

Joy’s smirk faded, and she quickly adjusted her pose, muttering under her breath. Mum crossed her arms and shot me a look that warned against testing her patience.

My older sister is the stereotypical slouching goth with her arms crossed and a perpetual scowl. She seemed inspired to suddenly straighten up, and bring her shoulders back like a parody of elegance. Her movements were exaggerated, almost theatrical, as she gracefully swept one hand across her chest like she was unveiling fine jewelry. I couldn’t tell if she was behaving over the top for a laugh and taking the piss or being serious. Then, with an overly exaggerated strut, swaying her lovely knockers and bubble butt like she was trying to get a laugh – Jack made her stop and do it again, but this time seriously.

Joy walked the length of the room, wiggling her hips and sashaying like she was on a high-fashion catwalk. Joy’s lips were pursed. Jack and I often teased her about her ‘resting bitch face’. That’s where a woman unconsciously looks like a bitch just sitting there. The ice princess look actually worked perfectly for her to pretend to be a high fashion model!

My Mum was up next – huge melons swaying, trying to walk in three-inch heels, while swinging her big dumper – it was comical, and she had a great laugh at how she probably looked, incapable of keeping a straight face. Jack chided her but, he wasn’t too hard on her – I was surprised that he got away with talking down to her, but he was the golden boy.

I was next—it felt strange walking barefoot and trying to pull off a catwalk strut. I was sure I looked like a proper newborn foal on wobbly legs, arms flapping as I tried to keep my balance.

“With your bony frame, skinny arms and spindly legs, and lack of titties, I’d have thought you’d be a proper Kendall Jenner out there, but you’re stomping around like a donkey with two left hooves.”

I can’t say we were squirming, defiant, angry or even nervous anymore. Joy and I were well past any of that. We were getting through it together and having a bit of a laugh about it all at this point. I just ignored Jack’s rude comment. He was trying to get my goat. I wasn’t going to take the bait and get accused of “bickering” and being disruptive.

“Oi, we need proper shoes,” Joy declared, stopping mid-pose and glancing over her shoulder with a cheeky grin. “This is too hard in bare feet!”

Jack stopped the photo shoot and agreed with Joy for once. “Joanne, I asked you to wear proper shoes, and the girls don’t seem to have anything but flats and boots like bloody builders. Heels make women walk better—more wiggle, more jiggle, sexy, more grace. That’s what we’re missing here.”

“We’re your sisters; should we even be sexy to you?” I asked pointedly.

“Yes, you should. That’s why you’re nude—it’s sexy. You’re Sophie, the model, not Sophie, the sister. Tits, butt, pussy, face—arms, legs—just like Joanne and Joy are.”

I was a bit disgusted by his response, but my Mum? Oh, she was flattered—hook, line, and sinker. “You don’t think I’m sexy, do you?” she asked, her blue eyes lighting up like she’d just been paid a compliment at the pub.

“You’d be a might sexier with proper heels, makeup, and a proper grooming as well,” Jack replied smoothly.

“We might take the train to Crawley sometime and buy some proper heels, Jack,” Joanne offered, glancing down at her own scuffed two-inch heels and frowning slightly. Crawley’s where the Gatwick airport is – not much there but it’s closer and less boggier than London.

“We don’t have money for girls to have tea,” I snapped, my arms crossing defensively, “but we’ve got money to pay for heels?”

Joy snorted, folding her arms as she shot a look between Jack and Mum. “Wait, so we’re doing more sessions like this? Perfect. What’s next, lingerie and a pole?”

Mum’s gaze narrowed at me first, her voice steely. “Sophie, don’t start. You want to go on about tea again? Heels are a one-time investment, and Jack’s the one trying to make something of this family, not just whinge about it.”

Jack smirked, his eyes flicking over Joy. “More sessions? Of course. You’ll need the practice walking in those heels anyway. And don’t give me ideas about props unless you want to see them in the next shoot.”

“How MANY sessions?” Joy asked our little brother, point blank.

Mom glanced at Jack, tilting her head and answered for him. “You’ve already pissed away about an hour with your accusations about whose fingers went where, and whose panties belonged to whom, and now you’ve got the audacity to ask how many sessions it will take to get all of the pictures? What makes you think that it’s up to Jack? Besides, it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do with your time, Joy.”