One night, she said, bowing her head. Her dark red hair spread out like a fiery halo around her head. A single desperation. Hey! he called to her. He stared awhile at her slim frame. The girl sat quietly embarrassed by the tirade, clearly wishing she had said nothing about it. She was 17 then. He laughed, bitter and short. He took one cinnamon hand in both of his. She was very wet and the rim of her vulva glistened generously with her lubricant. |