Grabbing my assigned textbook, number 14, on the way in, I march down the gap separating rows of desks, and plopped down into my seat. “Have a nice ...eekend, Jacob?” asked Mr. Morrison, my math teacher. “Yes, I did. Thank you for asking, what about you?” I replied. “Oh, you know, just the usual. Watching Sunday night football with the missus yappin’ on about grocery store stories.” For some reason I always thought the Mr. Morrison was a bit gay. But besides that, only a few minutes after I came. She knew it would not be wise to object to Bill’s wishes. He turned and adjusted the water in the shower. When she got in, and he followed her, she guessed that she was about to wash him. She was astonished when he pushed her back to wet her hair and then shampooed it for her. What the fuck? No man had ever washed her hair for her before. Then again, no man had ever pissed on her before. Bill was a very different kind of man. There was that thing he had said, too.“You are mine now,” that is. More

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