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.. again.”She went strangely still, the cello between her knees, her arms resting on it. I could see she wanted to ignore that remark, but she was ever the curious little kitty, was Rosa.“What do you mean, again?”“I mean I know all about Richard Arsehole-of-the-month Tate. And what you did with him a week before our wedding. That was the previous time you fell off the wagon.”She went pale, and then blushed bright red. In the incomplete darkness of the under stage I could actually see the glow.For four bars we sat in silence.“Why didn’t you say anything?” she said at last, her voice tearful with shame.“Oh, I thought about what I should say, what I should shout, what I should scream!” I replied, still holding onto the calm. “Dump you at the altar, and tell our parents and all the wedding guests what a cheating slut you’d been. I thought long and hard about that. I really wanted to.”She put her hand to her mouth as the lock I’d put on my feelings broke slightly to show the depths of my. " she stammered, looking for words and phrases that she didn't fully command. Mom waited for her explanation. "I always believed Americans were, ... that American women were, ... shy?" she asked, wondering if her words were correct. Mom wasn't understanding fully. "Puritans?" Mari tried again. "Not willing to show their bodies as you do?"Mom considered her words for a moment."Well, honestly, ... I don't think you are wrong. About Americans, anyway" Mom told her. "I might never wear this." She said indicating the tiny patch of cloth that counted as bikini bottoms. "Or go without a top if Andy, ..." She caught herself about to divulge something private. "What about Awndy?" Mari asked, swiveling her gaze back and forth between us."Well, ... Andy bought this for me. Yesterday." Mom admitted quietly as she ran her fingers over the material, not realizing that she was actually running her fingers over her pussy in front of us. She caught herself and jerked her hand away.Mari's mouth dropped.
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