"Anita and I are making some breakfast. Does everyone like French toast?" he said."Tony, do you even know how to make French toast?" Tina asked."Nope,...but Anita does. I'm just going to try and not burn some bacon," he said with a smile."Ahh, OK that's fine then."Rebecca beamed a smile at Tony when, twenty minutes later, he brought another tray up with three plates of French toast, bacon, and grits along with more juice and coffee. "I hope you're hungry. Anita's a cooking machine in there." Are. At first, I was wracked with guilt, enough guilt that would usually cripple me. Even though we hadn’t known about it, it was incest. I couldn’t even bare to look at Marci when she got home that night, or even for a week afterwards. It took time for my mind to settle. At first I was angry with myself. With time however, I became angry at her. I spent the better part of the week formulating my plan. If my daughter wanted to be a whore, I was going to make her one. I grew even angrier as. More

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