Chapter 11

“Thank you for letting me do all the things I do for you,” he whispered.

I sat again on the sofa. So far away from him. Too far. A million or more miles away. Shame on me. “My pleasure. You’re a hard-working man who deserves every cent I pay you. My demands are steep.”

He talked about the grave at The Crops for more than five minutes: hard labor, digging it by hand in the middle of the night, unseen by others, the perfect place.

My mind wondered. I wanted him to make love to me: undressing him, pealing his beautiful body out of his clothes, sitting on his lap, having him slip inside me and letting me ride him, kissing his left cheek, his neck, and shoulder, advising him to ram me, and hard. I wanted to pinch his nipples. I wanted him to pump his condom-covered stick inside me. I wanted to…