Looking up, I followed the hand and then the arm clothed in a dirty, torn long-sleeve shirt, to a body wearing the shirt, buttons either missing or le...t undone, and an older man, black with greying hair. His other hand felt funny as it pressed on my other thigh, and I looked down, to see he actually had no hand at all. There was just a stump where his wrist would have been. I looked back at him, everything in slow motion, as I was a mix of shocked, scared, horny, and desperate.His whiskers. My thick blonde hair hung lankly around my shoulders while I lapped atmy breakfast. As always, the coffee was wincingly sweet, practicallyswamped with milk and honey. Something of an eccentric, my aunt heldsome extremely unorthodox views on diet and nutrition...amongst otherthings.Meantime, Julene went through my closet, sorting out my wardrobe for theday. Almost inevitably, she chose the shortest outfit she could find, atranslucent red sunfrock with a full-circle drop-waist; the kind ofthing. More

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