“…I’m sixteen, what about you?” She replied, continuing to wolf down her meal. “Seventeen.” “Coolio.”“Can I ask you something kinda ...rivate?”“Sure…” “Are you cured?” She stared at me, almost fearfully as the words escaped my lips. She glanced around quickly before stammering quietly. “Uh, um…of course I am.” She set down her fork and stopped eating, shrinking nervously into her chair.A full five minutes passed silently, we both tried, and failed, to make conversation but it was difficult. I. In quick, furtive glances, I drank in the sight of the Deputy. Muscles strained against the clothing, his darkness shown in the light of the dash. Niggers were sub-human. At least, according to my parents, I understood their attitude, for they feared them being our betters.How might Deputy Weller be anything than my better? Strong, intelligent, able to control people. He owned me, with a harsh glance and rough treatment, I’d pissed myself. His magnificent prick held my attention and affection.. More

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