It’s a race to see whose hands get to them first, hers or mine. If Amelia’s palms are on her flesh, it’s my fingers that lace over the back of h...r hand and thread between her fingers, eager for the softest touch of breast and the hard tip of nipple, rolled between her fingers. If it’s my hand that cups her breast first, her smaller palm holds my hand to her heart, and her other hand reaches for the back of my head and her fingers run through my hair. Amelia pulls my head towards hers, and we. My cooperation ended with my arrest.”“That’s no way to be. Your failure to tell your side of the story will be construed against you.”I said nothing. This attitude went on for about twenty minutes with me not reacting. Finally, they left and two new people took their seats.The man seated said, “I’m Sargent Lewis. We need you to answer a few questions.”I asked, “Have you talked with the other two?” He nodded. “In that case, you have my story. It hasn’t changed. It won’t but I’m tired of telling. More

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