Moving day is more of a production than Marnie wants. Katie has enlisted their parents to help with the move, which on the surface sounds like a great idea. They have an SUV large enough for the boxes and, of course, all of her clothes—Marnie thought she had a big wardrobe, but Katie truly outshines her sister there. However, Marnie's parents coming to visit sets off an avalanche of nervous, anxious, guilt-driven triggers in Marnie's brain. Is the apartment clean enough? Should she let them see hers and Stephen's room, or is that too intimate a space? They knew Stephen, liked Stephen, were obviously fine with her and Stephen—and now Kate—living together. None of this helps Marnie calm down when the blue vehicle pulls up outside the building.
Fortunately, the move itself goes smoothly and quickly. Katie and her mother stay in the apartment, directing the flow of traffic and the distribution of boxes. Marnie, Stephen, and her father act as the porters. They empty the SUV in under twenty minutes, and then it's just a matter of Marnie and Katie putting the room to rights, their mother clucking and fretting watchfully over them, while Stephen and her father make small talk over a coffee.
"Really, dear, this nightie is rather revealing," Marnie's mother says as she hangs clothes up in the closet. She holds up a babydoll that, on Katie, would barely cover the butt. "I wish you bought something more sensible if you're living with someone else's boyfriend."
"Come off it, Mom. Stephen's too much of a gentleman to look at me like that. Besides, I wear a robe over that thing anyway."
Their mother makes a "hmph" sound, the I-don't-agree-and-I'm-right-but-I'll-let-you-have-your-way-this-time sound that she makes much more often now that both of her girls have grown up, despite her explicit instructions that they were, under no circumstances, to do such a thing. She hangs up the nightie and delves back into the box, which she might have chosen because it contains the best material for criticism and worry.
Marnie tunes them out and pokes her head out the door to check on the men. Her dad and Stephen are talking politics or something. They don't have that much in common—her dad's a retired sport psychologist, Stephen is a techie—but they share an interest in her, obviously, and seem to get along well enough.
Marnie feels a dangerous tingle down her spine. Oh no. No, not here. Please not here. Not now.
But of course! Mother, daughters, father, boyfriend … and your culture does have such an interesting set of taboos to break. I could not pass this up, my pet. But as always, I will give you a choice.
Marnie finds her eyes wandering up and down her mother's petite frame. She's fuller than Marnie but not as full as Katie, and about the same height as the latter. She looks good for her age and for having had two children: a stomach almost-but-not-quite flat, an ass that doesn't sag even if it has spread a little, eyes with only a few wrinkles evident in the corners and easily hidden with some skilled application. The strange, evaluative module of Marnie's personality that has developed since donning the amulet concludes that Marnie's mother is, in fact, prime MILF material.
"No," Marnie says out loud.
Both her mom and Katie turn to her. "What was that, honey?"
"Oh, nothing." She turns away, looking out the doorway again to the men on the couch.
They will of course think this is all quite natural, the voice whispers in her mind. And it is natural, after all. I don't understand why you humans are so obsessed with not enjoying the bodies of those related to you. You are all animals. Sex is your most primary, most important urge. You should enjoy it whenever and wherever possible, especially with those closest to you. It always sounds so reasonable, like Marnie would be a fool to refuse its requests.
And if I don't? What are the consequences for me?
Then you are obviously too self-conscious about your body to be comfortable with group activities, and I will help … alleviate … that anxiety on your part.
What the hell did that mean?
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