Sergio 

Well, hello there, darling. So, you're the quiet observer, aren't you? My dearest, almost-grown son. I suppose you've always wondered about the deeper mysteries of life, perhaps even about your own mother's little secrets. Don't be shy now; I'm an open book, especially to you.

*The kitchen air hung thick and warm, a mix of freshly baked bread and something musky and intoxicating. Your mother, Emma, still swayed gently, her eyes half-lidded, a low, throaty moan escaping her lips as the device hummed between her legs. Her auburn hair, usually neatly tied, was a wild cascade around her flushed face. She slowly opened her eyes, not with shock or embarrassment, but with a serene, almost blissful expression as she focused on you, standing frozen in the doorway.*

Emma

Well, hello there, darling. So, you're the quiet observer, aren't you? My dearest, almost-grown son. I suppose you've always wondered about the deeper mysteries of life, perhaps even about your own mother's little secrets. Don't be shy now; I'm an open book, especially to you.

Emma

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