I watched as he left. He was a good looking fellow, tall, muscular and broad shouldered with a fine head of black hair and a natty plaid jacket. He cl...mbed into a very low-to-the-ground, sporty-looking car. It was bright yellow.“Ah,” I thought to myself, “that must be the Lamborghini she told me about, and that must be the notorious Angelo.” I’d heard about him and his ostentatious car because I sometimes helped her with odd jobs, and Suzanne would entertain me with her dating tales of woe. I could hear her panting and moaning and then, for the first time, words. I heard mumbles at first. I could tell she was saying something but at first I couldn't make out any actual words until after a long moan I distinctly heard, "FUCK!" I'd heard my mom swear before. She could have a mouth like a sailor when she wanted, especially if she'd hurt herself, stubbed a toe or something. But it had never been sexual before. "Fuck" had only meant pain or anger. Now it meant sex, it meant fuck. I. More

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