”“Pillow?”“Fireplace poker.” He pointed at the decorative wrought iron fireplace set next to my gas fireplace.“Oh.”“Have to make it me...sy.”“Makes sense. Looks more like a break in. At least it’s a classic.”“You were just doing your job though. Getting the asset straightened out.”I couldn’t look him in the eye. Damn meds. “Yeah. That.”It didn’t fool him at all. A look of absolute horror crossed his face.“Jesus.” It was a prayer, rather than a blasphemy.I didn’t say anything; just struggled not. I was at school when I began to bleed the first time and I freaked out. My mom, a nurse took me home and explained everything. I was relieved, but had no idea what she meant about how I would have new interests and desires and new sensations. Whatever. Then I found one of my father’s nasty magazines and learned about sex. I ogled the pictures and read the reader’s letters describing their sex experiences. I began to ‘touch my privates’ and mimic the things in the magazine, but I know now that I. More

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