Youth Turn
Copyright © 1996; 2018 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
“You got yours. What you get now is silence. Long as you pay. Otherwise you can kiss your job and your wife good-bye. And you might as well kiss off your life too, cause when I’m finished talking to everyone, they’ll be interviewing your students one by one, boys and girls.
“A thousand dollars to start. Tomorrow. Here. Same time.”
“Melina,” Kagel said, but before the words came out, she was out of the car and trucking down the street.
Kagel sat dumbfounded. First he thought to kill her, but he could never do a thing like that. Next he thought to kill himself. It wasn’t the money—he had the money. But shame, fear and guilt took over. His life—he would have to pay and keep paying. He folded his head into his hands and he wept. How frail is the human condition.
The first police on the scene were two uniforms. They pulled up and with hands on guns went over into the embankment. The body lay limp, a pool of blood by the head. It was a clear-cut suicide, they decided.
Back at the patrol car they radioed for an ambulance, a supervisor and a forensic team. One officer interviewed people in the cars and the other, wearing latex gloves, reached through the open door into Kagel’s car. He found a school bag in the back and nothing else. In front, on the passenger seat, was a white envelope. He picked it up, careful to remember how it was sitting, and looked inside. Cash. His instinct was to return it to its place, but then, he reasoned, who would know? Cash? A plain envelope? Payoff money. But this guy was regular and just did himself in. He tucked the envelope into his pants pocket.
More patrol cars arrived, and the ambulance too, and these strangers began cleaning up the remains of Joel Kagel. In a bar after their tour, they would joke about the way the body looked, and, in a more serious tone, they would talk about the sadness of suicide. Latex gloves paid the tab.
Melina rolled her skirt at the waist and opened the top two buttons of her blouse. She took the lipstick from her school bag and with several deft strokes left a slick, smooth coat of red on her lips. She pressed her lips together, tossed the lipstick back in her bag and waited for the bus.
She wanted new lipsticks and new clothes and new roller blades. Virginia wanted things too. Maybe Sunday morning while her parents were at church, she and Virginia would do each other. Life is good, she thought.
Pick up a copy of my published works here:
Books by Peter Weiss.
Youth Turn
Copyright © 1996; 2018 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
She kissed him once, lightly, took his hand and placed it on her breast, allowing him one short feel.
“Take us somewhere,” she said.
He imagined her dripping clear fluid down the inside of her thighs. Virgin juices, he thought. All he could think of was virgin pussy, her white skin, pink nipples and shiny pink pussy lips. Nipples and pussy lips and clear nectar. It was twenty-nine years since he’d met and married Debra and there was never anyone else. But he wanted Melina to sit on his face and then on his lap. He wanted to slurp her nectar and push inside her up to her navel.
Oh, he thought, how life leaves us so needy.
The letter came to him at the school about a week later. It was addressed to Mr. Joel Kagel, care of the English Department, and it had no return address. It reminded him of that afternoon, of the trip to the motel, of how they had spent several hours together. It did not state the things they had done. It didn’t have to. It was simple, a subtle reissue of the event.
His knees buckled and he felt faint. What did she want? It said nothing of what she wanted. He thought he was home free, that he had gotten away with the one-time, out-of-himself experience. You only live once. It was time travel, back to young and alive and unafraid. She was this nymph and he might never have another opportunity like this. He could never repeat such a thing. Never.
So what does she want? He wondered.
The second letter told him. It came shortly after the first. She wanted to meet him again. It gave a day, date and time. But he did not want this. There was no room for such a thing, no room for anyone but Debra, the kids and the grandchildren.
Melina was waiting. She was wearing jeans, her school blouse and sneakers. She was not sexual in any way, she was just a kid, just a kid
“Hi,” he said.
She got in the car. “So you got my letters.”
“There’s no more, I hope.”
“No.”
“So, why are we here?”
“Didn’t you like me?” Melina asked. “I mean,” she said, “you picked me up and then you did those things to me.”
“I thought it was mutual.”
She laughed. “Yeah, right. You thought I wanted to do those things with an old guy like you?”
“But I didn’t force you.”
“No, you paid me.”
“Well, what do you want from me now?”
“What do you think?”
“I have no idea. You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“God no. Who needs another little you running around?”
“So, what then?”
“Well,” Melina said, “a girl like me needs money, you know. I have expenses and my parents don’t give me a big allowance cause they don’t want me running around meeting perverts like you.”
“So you want money then.”
“That’s about it.”
“And what do I get?”
Pick up a copy of my published works here:
Books by Peter Weiss.
Youth Turn
Copyright © 1996; 2018 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
“Sorry,” Melina said. But she knew she was right. Her skirt sat high on her thighs and she spread her legs. “I didn’t need a lift,” she said. “But I don’t feel like going to school. I mean I’m gonna go—you know at that school they call your home if you’re absent, and I don’t want to get grounded. So I have to go. But I don’t want to.”
They exchanged names, then Melina reached under the skirt, shifted in the seat and tugged at her panties. “These panties are killing me,” she said. She smelled her hand. “Wanna smell?” She pushed her fingers under his nose.
“Good, right?” she asked. She shifted again, facing him, drawing the leg closest to him up so her knee rested on the seat and he could see up her legs. “Taste it,” she ordered.
Like an automaton, he sucked.
“Nice, huh?” she said, withdrawing her hand.
They came to a red light. Indeed, he saw the white panties between her legs and he felt himself bulging. A pearl of pre-cum dripped into his underwear.
A sly smile crossed her face. “You do want some pussy,” she said, reaching to his crotch and feeling his erection. “Yeah,” she said. “I think you do.”
He picked her up at three o’clock a block away from the school, where he had dropped her off. She slid into the seat, this time sitting very close to him. Her lips were dark and she was made-up, eye makeup and all. She assured him her parents worked and wouldn’t miss her as long as she was home by six. Three hours was enough, right? That sly smile was still on her face, only now it seemed like a look of acknowledgment, and though he couldn’t say how exactly, it wasn’t the look of a sixteen year old, or however old she was—he was afraid to ask. It was a look of power though he wanted to call it enchantment. When she reached over and put her hand in his lap, his penis shot up in his pants and his heart thumped so that he thought he was having a heart attack.
“How old are you?” he managed.
“How old do you want me to be?” Melina asked.
“How old you are.”
“Whatever you want,” she said.
She massaged him, gathering the pants so she could put her hand around him. The harder he got, the more powerfully enchanting that look grew. The thought of Debra and the kids blew over him like a desert storm and eclipsed the scorching in his loins. Guilt followed.
“This is wrong.”
“Shh,” Melina said. She reached over and kissed his lips, thrusting her tongue in his mouth. Then she sucked up his tongue and squeezed him once so that he almost came in his pants.
“Okay,” she said. “We don’t have to. I’ll get out.” She started toward the door but knew he would hold her, and he did, a gentle grab at her hand.
“You want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Pick up a copy of my published works here:
Books by Peter Weiss.
Youth Turn
Copyright © 1996; 2018 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Joel Kagel had crossed the Whitestone Bridge for twenty-one years and driven along the service road of the Bruckner to Castle Hill where he turned left and rode over the overpass to the high school at which he taught. His wife, his kids, his grandchildren—two beautiful little girls—were his life. Every two weeks he deposited his paycheck. The house was paid off, kids taken care of, his wife’s salary deposited for vacations, savings and emergencies. Who could ask for more? Debra drove a new Camry and he drove a two-year-old Corolla, both paid for, and he had just upgraded his computer, keeping it state of the art. They belonged to the Temple, Debra serving as president of the sisterhood.
In the course of his day at school he interacted with several hundred high school students, three-quarters of them females. Most of the girls were sexually active yet terribly vulnerable and impressionable. He was hard-pressed to understand how or why they gave themselves away so readily or had children at the young ages they did. No one from the Temple or in his family or their families and extended families ever behaved so promiscuously. Premarital sex, perhaps, but a child to a child, or in wedlock, never.
So how it was that he saw Melina’s short skirt and open blouse, and how he came to make a youth turn on the overpass, he simply did not know. One moment he was going one way, and a moment later he had turned around and was going the other. He stopped at the light, the same light he had come to from the service road, and he watched as this girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, crossed the street. Already he pictured the swells of her breasts, and he could see her tushy sway while she crossed the street. Good God, he thought, what am I doing? But deep inside him he heard her calling. Go back, he told himself, and though he fought the urge, he found his car rolling along next to her.
“Need a lift?” he called through his opened passenger window.
“Pervert,” she said.
“I just thought,” he said, “I mean, you just look like you need a lift.”
“I have a black belt in karate,” Melina said.
“You won’t need it with me,” Kagel said.
“Well, you don’t leave me alone, I will.”
“Okay,” Kagel said. “I just thought you were lonely.” He started to roll off, but she turned full toward him.
“Wait,” she called. He stopped the car and she approached. “You look like a nice man,” she said. “You can drop me off at school. It’s just a couple of blocks.”
Melina opened the door and got in. “No funny stuff,” she said. “I really do have a black belt.”
“No funny stuff,” Kagel said.
“So, where you headed?” Melina asked.
“I work over on the boulevard,” Kagel said.
“Why’d you stop me?”
“Truth?”
“Truth.”
“You remind me of my daughter,” Kagel lied.
“I think you want some pussy,” said Melina.
Kagel stopped the car. “You’d better get out.”
Pick up a copy of my published works here:
Books by Peter Weiss.
Youth Turn
Copyright © 1996; 2018 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
She was quite small when she discovered her ability to control others and she was eleven when she realized she could excite boys. It happened accidentally one spring morning, not unlike this one, when she was wearing a white mock-turtleneck and no bra because she didn’t need one then. The breeze on the overpass stiffened her nipples into tiny marbles. As some boys approached, she heard them whispering, laughing as they passed, and when she looked back, all of them were looking at her. One called “Hey baby,” and blew her a kiss. She feigned annoyance but realized the power of her ability to attract boys. An opened blouse, a short skirt, colored or slicked lips, any one of these would do it, and more than one could drive boys crazy. Boys were stupid.
The first boy happened at thirteen, after karate class. He was eighteen, cute and he hurt her terribly. The second, also at thirteen, gave her money not to say anything. Pussy and silence: two great commodities. Sixteen now, she was no virgin.
Her sister, Virginia, had given her the first orgasm. Late one Sunday morning, her parents gone to church, they were watching videos on her sister’s bed. She was laying at her sister’s side, her head resting on her. Virginia simply reached into her pajama top and rolled a nipple between thumb and forefinger. Unhesitating, Melina looked at her invitingly and Virginia moved down for a kiss. Melina’s tongue met her sister’s and when she closed her eyes she pretended it was her favorite male pop star. A symphony of new sensations played through her. Fourth of July.
“Let’s smoke a blunt,” Virginia said. Melina watched her empty a cigar and refill it with weed. They smoked, and next she knew, she was droopy, her mouth dry. She coughed and choked and getting up for water, she realized how high she was.
Virginia stood over her. Melina lay sprawled on the bed. Virginia tugged off Melina’s pajama bottoms so Melina lay naked from the waist down, then she stroked a smooth-skinned thigh. She kneeled next to Melina, sliding a finger to the triangle between her legs. When she dipped her finger, she reached between her own legs with the other hand. She kissed Melina and slid her tongue into Melina’s throat. Melina purred.
It only took a moment. Virginia pushed one finger inside Melina and used another for her magic button. She undid the pajama top and fondled Melina’s breasts. Melina pressed against the fingers, sucking Virginia’s tongue while Virginia watched her explode.
“Wow,”
“Now me,” Virginia said. She gave the fingers she had used to Melina’s mouth. “Suck them, then suck my pussy.”
Melina obeyed. When Virginia swooned, her legs locked around Melina’s neck, Melina noted the power of pleasure.
Pick up a copy of my published works here:
Books by Peter Weiss.
Copyright © 1996; 2018 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The car pulled up behind the car before it and stopped in the morning rush hour traffic. Other cars immediately lined up and the two lanes waiting for the approach to the bridge sat still.
The man behind the wheel stroked his mustache. He was bald-headed, about fifty. For All Those Years played on his car stereo. Hearing the song and the voice, tears welled up in his eyes. Traffic rolled slightly, a little ahead, but his car sat still.
Though the morning was cloudless, he’d lost sight of the traffic, of where he was. He hesitated, then he opened the car door and stepped out. Immediately horns from the cars behind his blasted, but hypnotized, he left the car door open and headed to the tree-filled embankment. There, he drew a Smith & Wesson from inside his belt, chambered a bullet and blew off the top of his head.
The shot was unmistakable to those stuck in traffic, a single pop like the slap of a hammer against a board. Some people recalled a movie or a book. Others heard the rustle of the underbrush as the body fell. Everyone knew they would be late for work.
Melina rolled her skirt at the waist then opened the top two buttons of her blouse so you could see cleavage. Next, she took a lipstick from her school bag and with several deft strokes left a slick, smooth coat of red on her lips. She pressed her lips together, tossed the lipstick back in her bag and waited for the bus.
She found a window seat and took out her iPod. Eyes closed, she listened to Come to My Window. A breeze swirled from the window through the open blouse and over her breasts. She pictured one of her pop star idols and she felt creamy down there. She crossed her legs and squeezed tight.
She kept the iPod on as she crossed the Bruckner overpass toward school. The breeze stiffened her nipples so they pressed through her bra against her blouse. If her mother saw her now… But her mother was on her way to work in Manhattan, and her father too, and she was on her way to the prissy all-girls high school, where, before she could enter, she’d roll down her skirt and wipe off the lipstick. If she didn’t, she’d get detention and the Sisters would call home. Fuck that.
Public high school kids passed her in the opposite direction. She recognized some faces, boys and girls who passed her daily. The boys who stared at her breasts she gave the finger or blew kisses. The girls she sucked her lips at. “Ooh, baby,” she said once or twice. Already a black belt in karate, she waited for the pathetic being that might challenge her.
Pick up a copy of my published works here:
Books by Peter Weiss.
Youth Turn was originally written in 1996 and was revised in 2016. It will appear here in a series of five or possibly six installments but it is a standalone short story. It is copyrighted. The copyright page will appear on each installment and is reprinted here. The story is presented for your entertainment, and I do hope you enjoy it.
Peter
Youth Turn
Copyright © 1996; 2018 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The Ferris Wheel
Peter A. Weiss
Copyright © 2017 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
(11th and final installment)
So it was anticlimactic. His alarm went off at seven but Lilly was already up. She’d set her alarm for six-thirty. She stood over him, naked, clad only in his football jacket.
“I’m famished,” she said. “Let’s grab a shower and get something to eat. My treat.”
“Okay.” Paul stood up, kissed her, spread the jacket so he could look at her. Lilly stood there for him, unshy, smiling and flashing her dimples. She let the jacket fall away and turned fully around as if she were a model.
“Now you,” she said.
Paul dropped his skivvies and stood before her. The second she touched him, he sprayed her. Realizing what was happening, she helped him along and laughed a deep belly laugh. “Damn,” she said. She kissed him and kissed him, then she led him to the bathroom where they brushed their teeth, both using his toothbrush.
“Couldn’t help it,” he said. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry with me, Paul. Don’t ever be sorry.”
In the shower, she taught him everything she liked so that after she’d caught up to him, and not before, she helped him strip away his innocence.
“Wasn’t quite what I expected,” he said while he was drying her back.
“Or me.”
“What’d you expect?”
“Probably what you did, a nice long… You know. Plenty of foreplay then plenty of horseback riding.”
“Well, what are we going to do about it?”
“We still have three nights. I’ll give you a pass and you can hang out with me. When it gets late, you can go home and I’ll meet you here.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“If you fall asleep, I’m waking you up.”
“Deal.”
All dried, they stood naked before each other. They hugged and kissed. Then Lilly saw the clock and knew she had to go.
“You know, if I just worked there, I’d blow off the whole three days. It’s different when you own the business.”
“I suppose it is,” said Paul. “I’m just a working class kid, so I wouldn’t know about owning a business.”
“I won’t even be late,” said Lilly. “I have to set the example.” She started for the living room where she’d slept. “Get dressed and follow me in your car. When we get there, I’ll fix you up with a pass, do a couple of things in the office and then we can get something to eat.”
Paul grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. He kissed like he’d never kissed anyone and he held her so tight she was breathless.
“Lilly…,” he started. But she put a finger to his lips to stop him.
“We roll out of here Tuesday morning. I may never see you again. So don’t do anything but enjoy the time we have.”
“I was just gonna tell you I’m not a big star. I’m just a pretty good linebacker and a very regular guy.”
“Never sell yourself short, honey.” Lilly stepped into her panties, put on her bra and quickly finished dressing. Paul hurried so she wouldn’t be late.
The End
Pick up a copy of my published works here: Books by Peter Weiss.
The Ferris Wheel
Peter A. Weiss
Copyright © 2017 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
(10th Installment)
Then their time was up. Lilly looked at her watch and told Paul they’d be getting off shortly. Only then did she take his hand, ever so briefly, under her skirt and under her panties. Just for a moment, she led his fingers into her most private space. After she let go his hand, she unzipped his fly and helped herself to a feel of him. Then she zipped him back up and kissed him one last time.
They walked slowly, hand in hand back to one of the ticket booths.
“I like you, Paul. I liked the way you looked last year and I like that you’re just you.”
“I like you too, Lilly.”
“I’m on the pill,” she said. “You can go bareback if you’re not sick. And just so you know, I’ve never let anyone bareback ever. You’ll be the first and the only.”
“How could I be sick, Lilly? I haven’t been anywhere.”
“Good,” Lilly said. “I don’t get any more breaks. I’ll be done about two in the morning. I have to be back at nine. The next three days, like today, are crazy for us. Anyway, meet me here, at this ticket booth.”
“I’m gonna find a good place to take a snooze” said Paul.
“Don’t be late, honey.” Lilly gave him a kiss on the cheek and disappeared into the booth.
4
The jeep was yellow sunshine. Lilly drove fast and wild with her cowboy hat off so her hair could fly in the wind. At the first traffic light, she kissed Paul and took his hand to kiss too. They were far apart in the bucket seats, the gearshift in between them, so that was it until they reached Paul’s apartment. She let Paul lead the way up the outside stairs, inside to the elevator and up to the fourth floor. Then they were in his apartment where she plopped herself down on the sofa.
“I am so beat,” she said. “I could just crash right here. But we had a good day. Took in plenty of money. Course that don’t mean we made a lot. But we did okay. This is always a good fair for us, I mean when the weather is nice.”
“Want a soda?”
“Got a beer?”
“How about some white wine? I don’t drink, but I do have a bottle someone gave me that’s been chilling.”
“Sure.”
Paul went to the kitchen. When he returned, Lilly had kicked off her boots and taken off her socks. She had lain down on the sofa and fallen asleep.
He stood a long while looking at her, her feet mostly because she had gorgeous feet, he thought. He didn’t know what they were going to be like, but he’d imagined they’d be like—he didn’t know—cowgirl feet, whatever that was. He imagined chubby toes, calluses and maybe not manicured. But they were slender feet with painted toenails, a French pedicure with gold tips. Looking at them gave him wild thoughts and the wild thoughts made him very, very ready. He’d been ready for many years, many, many years.
Every part of him wanted to wake her. Every part of him wanted to use her as she lay there. Every part of him just wanted her and wanted to be done with the silly virginity thing. He went to his bed and took off one of the covers. Gently, so she wouldn’t feel it, he covered her and went off to sleep. Before he fell off, he remembered she said she had to be back at nine, so he set his phone to wake him at seven. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone to bed horny. It was just another in a long string of times. Goddamn, he thought, disappointed.
to be continued
Pick up a copy of my published works here: Books by Peter Weiss.
The Ferris Wheel
Peter A. Weiss
Copyright © 2017 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
(9th Installment)
“So I got to thinking and I was thinking how you were so sweet and honest last year. And I thought how wouldn’t it be nice if we met up again and I had as much desire as you, you know? So…so…”
She paused for effect and looked at Paul. “So…just so you know, I haven’t been with anyone since we met and I haven’t done anything with myself for about two months. Crazy, huh?”
“Not at all. I’m totally flattered.” Paul flashed her a big smile, pulled her tighter to him and squeezed her hand.
“Your turn. But don’t say anything stupid. I bet you’ve been having lots of girls now that you’re a big football star.”
“Actually,” said Paul, “it’s easy to get girls now and I…Aw, what the hell, Lilly. I decided I would wait for you, to see if we met up again. I thought it would be really special if I gave you my first time.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Not at all.”
“What makes you think we’re gonna, you know?” Lilly made a little face and nudged him to indicate what she was talking about.
“Well, I was hoping. It’s something I wanted. Of course it’s all up to you.”
“You really are a silly little boy,” said Lilly. “You have a place to take me, I mean if we decide to? I’m not going back there in the hay.”
“That’s where my friends went last year.”
“First off, I wouldn’t call them friends. Then I’m just dying to know what they told you.”
“Not much. Only that they got laid back there in the hay.”
“They said that, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Well, maybe they did and maybe they didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I said. I see everything here, and what I can’t see, my people see.”
“They said they were sorry it didn’t work out for me.”
Lilly leaned in and kissed Paul. As she did so, she took his hand to hold in both of hers. “You’re precious,” she said. “Maybe they were sorry it didn’t work out for them.” She kissed him more, and more, each time deeper and fuller. “Do you have a place to take me? Cause it’s gonna work out for you.”
“My place. It’s a small college apartment but it has a comfortable bed and it’s private. I didn’t drive here. My friend Alan did. So I don’t have my car.”
“I have a jeep,” said Lilly. “It’s open and fun.” Again she unleashed a long, intimate kissing session. This one lasted nearly the entire time they were on the ride. While they kissed, the Ferris wheel spun. It started, stopped, did its thing. People got on and off, the noise got softer and louder. At the times they were stopped up top, they took a moment to look out over the fair, to take in the lights, the other rides, the people.
The first time they were stopped up there after they’d decided where they were going later, Lilly led Paul’s hand over her body. Paul remained passive, allowing her to show him the way. Lilly seemed content with this, even relieved maybe. Paul wanted to be considerate, to be patient. Once the decision was made, there was no hurry, he thought. Besides, he didn’t understand the circumstances Lilly had to contend with, the rules she had to obey. After all, she was at work.
to be continued
