She was just an object. Casey’s sex doll that he could dress anyway he wanted. She crossed her arms over her body and walked into the living area. ...asey looked across at her from the kitchenette where he was opening a bottle of wine. On the dining table nearby two lasagnas were already letting off steam into the air. Casey pulled the cork from the wine and smiled at her. “Fuck, Amy,” he said, “I’ve got a fucking boner already.” He laughed. What was this? Amy thought. The food? The wine? The. The old man’s back began to wail then, like the banshees of myth, so he peered around for something upon which to sit. His brown eyes lit upon an overturned Guinness crate. It had to be nearing the thirtieth anniversary of its unremarkable birth, but the old man with the sore body saw no other option. With that thought, a memory flashed vividly before the old man’s still vibrant eyes. He could see Philippe de la Croix’s face as clear as day, the blue eyes, the short-sheared light brown hair,. More

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