“A dry cleaning shop. But this town is so small, I don’t think itcould support one. Anyway, there are mostly farmers around here, and they don’t...ear business suits ... ”“Yeah, mostly farmers with frumpy wives!” Edna said. “And horny young farmhandswho’ve got no place to go to get their rocks off!”“What have you got in mind?” Marcella asked.“What this town needs is a whorehouse! Think you could run one?”“Oooh shit, Edna!” Marcella said, and laughed.“I’m serious. There’s a lot of money in that. You'll pardon my language, but there I was, drunk, naked, flat on my back, legs spread, and had just basically begged a stranger to penetrate anatomy that I didn't have. And his finger was wet, sticky and cold. I don't know why I referred to my ass as a pussy. I don't know why I told him to make a woman out of me. Maybe to my ingrained way of thinking, heterosexuality was the only thing there was, and if he had a rock hard dick, then by the power of elimination, I must be a woman. But. More

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