Vince Polito raised his son to be a giving person, and as Vince Jr. grew from a boy to a man, he proved to be most generous to his father.
...
Your mother won't like this.
"What the fuck?" Vince Polito said as he looked at his son's bed with a combination of pride and shock at the mess that Vince Jr. was displaying with a wicked grin. "These sheets looked like you gutted a freaking deer on them."
"Lily was a bleeder, wasn't she?" Junior snickered. "At least she wasn't lying about being a virgin."
"Your mother won't like this," the boy's father told him. "Looks like a crime scene."
"The only crime was that she had to get home by 10," Junior gloated. "Otherwise, she would have gotten it again. You'll love the film. I want to see it after you two are through with it."
"What's this?" Vince's father asked, going over to the night table and picking up the bottle of liquor.
"Cinnamon schnapps," Junior chuckled. "Used it to get her in the mood. Here, check this out."
Vince took the little cloth tag and brought it up for inspection, and although it was faded from numerous washings, Vince the elder was finally able to make out what it read.
"34A?" Vince said, handing back the tag to his son, who put it in the drawer of his night stand along with the other dozen or so that he had collected since he had started having sex.
It had become sort of a trophy - like mounting deer heads on a wall - this ripping off of the bra size tags from his various girlfriends, and while the father thought it was childish in a way, it seemed harmless enough. The fact that his son could name the girl associated each tag was amusing as well.
"Padded too," Junior said. "Her tits are really small, as you'll see."
Vince took the camera off of the dresser, where it had filmed the action that had taken place on that bed earlier, and after nodding to his son he said good night and headed for his bedroom, locking the door behind himself.
"Movie time honey," Vince told his wife, who was reading a magazine as she lay propped up on the bed, and she cast a dour look at her husband while peeking over the rim of her glasses at him.
"You two," Barbara said as she shook her head with dismay.
"I know," Vince said with a wave of his hand while putting the tape in the player and turning on the TV. "We're both disgusting and perverted."
"You are," Barb said. "That poor girl. She didn't look more than 15."
"She was 18," Vince protested. "The boy is no dummy. He got your good looks and my brain."
"And your sex drive," his wife said.
"All of this posturing, and you'll be watching right along with me," Vince said as he climbed into bed with his wife.
"We'll see," Barb Polito said. "Maybe I'll surprise you."
...
Movie time.
Vince Polito smiled as the movie started, having glanced over to see that his wife was looking over the top of the magazine as the screen came to life. Soon the magazine would be set aside, if the past was any indication.
"Let the thing play," Barb said, showing annoyance at her husband's habit of scanning forward to get to the good parts.
"It's over an hour and a half long, and I have to go to work in the morning," Vince declared.