Not only could I hear my parents having sex-my girlfriends and I labeled my mother “Lassie” — think Kim Cattrell in Porky’s-but my room happened to be right next to the neighbors’ bedroom. My mother was loud, yes-but all she really did was moan. There were no real words, not even a “yes” or “oh god!” Just lots of feminine noise. My neighbor, on the other hand… The funny thing is, she was the most straight-laced, button-down, uptight woman on the face of the planet by day. She was my best friend, Sarah’s, mother, the woman who insisted we take our shoes off the moment we walked in the door, who required coasters under every glass, and who took down and washed her curtains twice a week. Tall, thin, with short, blonde hair and bright blue eyes behind sensitive-80’s-glasses, she wasn’t what anyone would really consider a sexual powerhouse. At night, however, Mrs. L turned into an animal.
