She fell back into my arms and held on to the remote, channel surfing as I held on to her. She was flipping from one channel to the next trying to fin... something we'd both enjoy. My attention, though, was entirely on her. As she surfed my hand made its way from her hip to her belly and moved further up to land on her chest. I can still remember feeling the lace of her bra through the thin material of her tank top. She turned her head up to me as my mouth came down to meet hers. Our tongues. He looked around at the dump he had left his wife in and he couldn't believe how he had managed to survive all those months living like this. Or how that bitch who called herself Mrs. Wilson could call this 'home.' The place was a fucking disaster. A squalid, vermin-infested sty.They had laughed at him today. At Suzie's Whorehouse, out on Route 117. When he was living here, he'd been going there every fucking Wednesday for almost a year before he came home to his cold wife. He'd never been. More

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