I slept with my stepmother. Even after years, I still couldn't get over how I felt about them.

It started when I was sixteen years old. The year before, my parents split up, and I moved in with my dad. He began meeting this woman who was a few years younger than him.

At first, I tried to hide how I felt about him. She looked great, though. Olive skin tone and light blonde hair. Also about five feet tall. There are the right bends in the right places.

The first six months went by without any events. Then my dad went to the hardware shop one day.

"I'm going to be away for a while. Don't get too crazy, you two. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't do."

My dad would not have said that if he knew what was going to happen.

She asked me to come into her room. She said she needed help putting a curtain rod back in place.

I did what I was told and got a step ladder. It took me a few minutes to say, "Looks fine to me."

"From where I'm standing, the same," she said. I got cold on the ladder.

When I turned around, she slowly patted the bed and ran her soft-looking hands over the thin green blanket. I climbed down the stairs and sat down on the bed.

"I know you've been calling me mum, for a while now, but...I'd really like it if you called me Robbie," she nearly yelled.