Gemma actually was topless – she carried Kit in a baby-sling between her bare breasts, with a short zip-up jacket to keep them warm. At the club doo... a butch door-woman was checking everyone in. She grappled one obvious T-girl between the legs, and told him to come back on Tuesday, which was trans-sexual night. Gemma was next in the queue and whispered "say clit-rings" to Molly and Becki behind her. The door-woman made a great fuss of Kit – licking her tiny fingers, and pulled down Gemma’s zip. Communication was the answer, but we had to establish some ground rules. We needed to find a way to talk about what Jeanne was doing that wouldn't create unbearable heartache for me. As I was picking up my wallet and car keys there was a knock on my motel room door. Assuming that it was the manager, I walked over to the door and said, "John, what do you need?" "Michael, it's me. Open the door." It was Jeanne. "Jeanne what are you doing here?" "I had to see you." "But how did..." "Michael, open. I downed its contents almost in one then refilled it and took another long sip before setting the scene for the morning; two part-full wine glasses with lipstick marks on the table, several empty beer bottles on the sideboard.I scattered a few items of Jackie’s and my clothing on the furniture and floor then took a last, long sip of my wine and surveyed the scene.It was perfect; evidence of recent seduction was all around me. There was even a wet patch on the sofa where much of the action had. She used to joke that I was her man now, not Dad. She didn’t need a new spouse, she told me. She was happy with her lovers ... and with me. Well, her lovers eventually passed from the scene, though I didn’t judge them for that. Men and women alike, they were predominantly married or otherwise attached, a number of them were cheaters, and several were parents. While they cared for her, they had obligations and responsibilities that conflicted with caring for a sickly, ailing woman on the cusp of.
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