The evening breeze catches my hair, I feel a strand dancing along mycheek now; feel ends of my hair begin to float. Unsettled, I try toshift myself an...inch or two away, along the bench; I feel the tee-shirtbrush a breast. I want to argue back, want to demand; now, after all this time, toscream the scream I should have when I first looked into the mirror:No, no. You're wrong. I can't. What have you done? Why me?Or do I want? I want, I don't want. I don't know. "Shh," you cut me off. "Someone is. ”“If I remember from last night you don’t stick anything up your butt,” Marco said.“What? You remember that? No, it’s not, I mean...”“Let’s never talk about this again?” Marco asked.“Deal,” Roger replied.Part Two: Eight Loving ArmsI’m an adult, Marco told himself as he looked to the window of the adult sex toy store, adults do this sort of thing all the time. It doesn’t mean anything. But Marco was also the man who ordered all of his condoms and lubricants online so he didn’t have to deal with. More

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