Funny, she thought in the aftermath of her meltdown, holding that boy’s penis was titillating. She was curious about how it looked but couldn’t s...e well it in the darkness of the car in the park. She had met the boy that put her into the pickle she was in but could hardly remember his name. Ashton, I think. Under stress from her circumstance, she couldn’t even understand why she dwelt on Mr. Copley’s hardness, which shockingly pressed against her abdomen. I should be DISGUSTED by it, she. I don’t know what I’ll do when Raymond is away next Fall.’ It was Raymond’s turn to be embarrassed. They were quiet for a few seconds, until the children came running to the table cajoling for dessert. As James drove home later, Lucy’s turkey drawing was on the seat next to him. It was hardly a Picasso—it was far more valuable. To James, the affection showed him by the small child vindicated his innocence of all of what others had accused him. He cemented the conversation at the table into his. More

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