Just outside the bedroom door and down a short hallway, Mrs. Albright was preparing dinner. She had covered her soft, pastel colored sweater and hip-hugging jeans with an apron she'd made last spring. It was embossed with a host of tiny birds, arrayed in bright hues from top to bottom. The top was pushed to its limit, even though she'd made alterations twice, and the drawstrings were cinched up tightly around her slim waist making the thin fabric flare elegantly at her hips. When Jenna didn't scream or run away, I smiled and whispered, "Shhhh," before looking back down at Callie. "Come for me, baby. Come so Daddy can fill your pussy up."