She laughs to see the grand scholar on his stomach on the floor of the living room, reading his sons a fairy tale from a fat little book.
He has lots of women like her, who would like to be his anchor, and too many of them confuse that for throwing themselves head first into the ocean.
Gloved hands shot out and grabbed the book in question, dragging it off the shelf and holding it to the light.
"Fuck, I have a gang," Ed breathed in horror, about to take a seat.
So soft... so completely squeezable. It would take work to make this decadent man hard.
Wasn't young love grand, perfect as crystal, flawless as the summer overtures?
He had believed, until that moment, that he had moved beyond carnal wants and human feelings.
She hadn't come to confront the sameness of him, but the difference — the nonconformity anyone could mark and everyone did...