That didn't seem like her. Moira wouldn't want something so impersonal.Kate had been getting fucked, I realized. I'd never understood the word like th...t before. Kate was getting fucked, but Moira would want to be loved. I wanted to be loved.My imagination raged, picturing the two of them – Gary and Moira – together. I could almost feel it. Tongues and caresses and – what would fucking feel like? No, what would loving feel like?With a panic, I realized I was playing with myself and moaning. And. Alone, sober, I see drunk people. They move in twos, threes and ones up and down the bar-lined boulevard. Some bounce. Some drag. Hunger wafts through the streets. Cadillac Escalades, sprayed in their finest pearl-white, strut down Erie Street at fifteen m.p.h. though they appear to be doing twenty. The dark-skinned drivers whistle at tight dresses on tight asses. Their blaring horns seem to say, ‘Hey baby, how you doin’?’ Stiletto heels clickety-click-click down the sidewalk. I overhear. More

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