On New Year's Eve, Birdie (my steady girlfriend from 1968 to 1972) and I were in the rear, second-floor bedroom at the Gay Street House having frantic, passionate sex which seemed to last and last. All the while, I worried her husband Rick might arrive. But since it was after one or two in the morning and all the doors were locked, I finally concluded he simply was not going to show up.

My father was in one of the other rooms. Was my mother also in the House? What would happen if my mother walked in there? I would simply have to escort her out of the room and tell her that this was none of her business and that she should not be in there. Fortunately, she did not show up

Late at night I had an orgasm and rolled off Birdie, but then I rolled back onto her and began feeling her breast again. When I heard an unexpected noise outside, I quickly jumped up and said, "I heard a noise."

Birdie sat up on the side of the bed—she seemed to be going into convulsion as she groaned, "Oh no, it's my husband, it's my husband."

She was pounding her foot on the floor and making a terrible noise. I said, "Calm down. Calm down. You've got to control yourself. I'll go find out what it is."

I jumped up and put on my brown bathrobe. I walked to the door, opened it, and looked downstairs to the kitchen. There I could see my father's legs sticking out of the kitchen stove. I said, "Dad, what's going on."

He replied, "Nothing."

Apparently, he also was checking to see what was going on. He said he had been up on "Saint Thomas Avenue" and that no house was there. I thought, "Well, that's where Birdie lives. What was he doing up on Saint Thomas?"

But then he corrected himself and said, "No, no. I mean the House up on the hill (the House in New Boston)."

Apparently, he had been looking for my mother, but had been unable to find her. When he had returned to the Gay Street House, he had heard the same noise I had heard, and had gone downstairs to see what it was. But I was unsure what he was looking for in the stove.

I thought Birdie's husband might be outside looking around. I knew Birdie did not have a car here and therefore she could  not be traced here. But since Birdie was not at her home, her husband had probably simply decided she was probably here with me. Alarmed, I wondered what her husband would do if he actually came into the House and found Birdie and me together.

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