He said, “Hello, Mark.”“Oh ... Dexter ... I expected it to go to voice mail,” Mark said sounding surprised to actually get him that morning.�...Not this morning. I’m sitting on the crapper and have nothing better to do, than to shit and talk to you,” Dexter said. He pressed his lips together and blew so that it made a sound like he was passing gas. When he quit, he moaned, “Ah! I feel like I’m gonna pass a big one.”“I don’t need to know that kind of shit,” Mark said, without realizing he had made. My hand cups the back of her head. She whispers against my lips, ‘I am your woman.’ My hands drop to her waist, seeking the buttons of her skirt. Two buttons pose no barrier, the zipper opens noiselessly. She steps back and permits the woolen skirt to puddle at her ankles. She is a study in contrasts. Lusty and wanton in sheer stockings and high heels, and shy and innocent in a white satin slip. She is both virgin and temptress, cool beauty and smoldering passion. I feel as I have never felt. More

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