All four are balding, their hair prematurely grey. Each wears a shirt and tie, and they all speak in low, hurried tones. The men talk about money: how...to make it, how to hoard it, how to generate more. When the conversation strays, it is only to reach a consensus that the three-day weekend interrupted their stock trading.Memorial Day inconvenienced these men. They couldn't stop for one day to honour the tens of thousands of men and women who died so they could trade freely in a market economy.. Even when I arose from a particular man's lap with semen on my thighs, his friends releasing their desire for me, under my small hand that pressed them onto my warm skin.'Are you still a virgin'? I stood beside my father, beer in hand, my crotch at his face level, the cotton of my undersized knickers, forming my all to familiar 'Camel-Toe', imprint of my cunt, which daddy was staring at.'No Daddy', I answered half truthfully, as I had felt a part penetration, though one of his ejaculating. More

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