“Do come inside, Ma-am.” She bent a knee to me, pretending to be impressed, and opened the door.The coals in the small fireplace hardly pushed out...the room’s darkness, compared to the shade in woods on a bright day. On a stump, hewn into a seat, Eleanor Tuttle rocked with her baby at her breast. Her skirt was also sack cloth, but hand sewn well enough. Skinny, except for her mother breasts, the woman looked sad but content. The baby, Joe, sucked greedily.She looked up, and a fright overtook her. Theseorgasms were even better. I didn't feel fucked so much as taken andused, but always so respectfully that it was hard to object. He took meoutside, bent over a bench, sometimes in broad daylight. He took me inthe theater, bent over a seat. He took me at a friend's house, when hewas bored watching television. He took me at a cocktail party, my facepushed into the wall. I never had time to be offended. He'd rip mypanties off and be inside me before I had time to notice. I stoppedwearing. More

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