Chapter 13

It felt so good to hold Joyce in my arms. The softness of her body. Unlike Joyce, this feeling for a woman, body and soul, was a first for me. Until now, I had never felt this urge, the need to make love to a woman. I knew I could please men. Pleasing them was in my DNA. And yet, the feeling of power over this woman, who could have been my mother — who had been my mother in so many ways — was addictive. I was hooked on her; she was my cola-light, my cigarette, my line of coke. We were racing from the privacy of the bedroom towards a leashed collared girl in the garden. We were migrating from tender lovemaking to rough sex with our all-consuming lust as a catalyst. Of course I made mistakes; my judgement clouded by an intoxicating power trip. Yet, her willing compliance allowed me to discover a new world. I found a new world, even though I haven’t left Earth yet.

The production company made a production out of threatening with lawsuits after their money-making porn star told them she had made her last movie for them. Isis was not impressed and moved in with us two days later. Isis was someone who was easy to get along with. We heard her loud and clear from the upstairs bedroom telling Drew he was the best lover in the world. She told us she was trying to teach Drew to be more vocal during lovemaking.

Joyce and I were sitting in the living room with Jenny. The cries of passion were an interruption to our conversation sometimes.

“I wish I could take a long shower, not a bath but a shower,” Jenny said longingly. “I feel a bit clammy.”

“Why not? Let’s go.” I said and got her wheelchair.

“We can’t. Drew is ‘occupied’ right now.” She air-quoted.

“We don’t need him. Joyce and I are quite capable of getting you squeaky clean, girl.” We rolled the almost naked girl in the wheelchair into the bathroom and took her adult diaper off. She had little control over her bladder and bowel movements, and she was embarrassed about that. As much as we tried to understand her, you can only truly empathise with how someone feels when you find yourself in that situation.

“Come on, girl. Wrap your arms around my neck.” With my hands firmly holding her legs, I carried her without accidents in the shower. “Hold on to me, as Joyce will wash your back.” Jenny pressed her body soundly against mine, holding on with her hands around my neck as I supported her, clasping her waist. Joyce was gently washing her with a big sponge. It felt intimate, and I couldn’t help giving her little kisses on her hair and forehead. I said above the noise of the water: “Just chill and enjoy.” She tried. I could feel that she tried, even though she couldn’t. Not completely. When Joyce was done, I helped her turn around. Joyce did her magic on her face and chest. Her nipples responded to the touch. I felt she was getting tired from holding on to me, so I looked at Joyce. Our silent communication was getting better every day. She cleaned her hips faster and used the mobile showerhead to clean Jenny between her legs. We towelled her dry and helped her into her bed. Taking her shower exhausted her. Joyce and I didn’t waste any time getting dry as well, and spooned her on both sides, Joyce before her, and I was behind her, our bodies pressed together like a warm cocoon.