My words would be; Jocelyn, lovely, sad, fragile, woman.And I love you."There were more little sounds from inside. I saw her shadow by thedoor again, ...omething like fabric scuffing the wallpaper."I've been so lonely," she whispered. Perhaps her voice was a littledeeper, but what was normal anyway? How many times had I been accusedof being a dyke, a lezza, just because I was tall and could run?"You could come back under the blanket. I promise I won't kiss youagain."A little snort. "It was a nice. I tried to make it just that -- for two weeks. Now, however, a strange yearning drove me on. One that I feared, yet had to explore. I had to know. Was I a slut? Am I a slut. To be used by men for their enjoyment. I had to laugh, for I suddenly realized that this latter part was my marriage: Being used by hubby. The selfish bastard.KMart was coming back into view. Driving more carefully, more attentively, I switched lanes. The centre. The right. The turn lane.Fear gripped me.A quick glance over. More

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