The girl was barely sixteen when it first happened.

Lying on a rug in the dappled shade of an old apple tree and wearing nothing but her panties, the girl was engrossed in a school book.

Her mother crossed the lawn, knelt beside her, and trailed her fingertips down the girl's back until they reached the edge of her panties.

Feeling a rush of excitement, the girl turned.

"Don't move, darling."

Fingers slid under the waistband. The girl lay still, her heart pounding.

When it was over, the woman gathered up her daughter and carried her back to the house.