He is so handsome, not the tallest boy on the block, but dark skinned and a smile that would make any female melt before him. He was…my boss’s son... Fouad. I began working with him around 3 months ago when his parents saw my exceptional work ethic which molded perfectly with their son’s. “I wish we molded together” I am 19 and he is 24. We both love sports and work hard to keep lean athletic bodies. I never threw myself at him, or fought for a look from him like the stupid little high school. From under the shelving came a camera, click, click, the shutter went, especially taking in that singularly identifying tattoo. She slipped away the camera once more, its job over. Again, she took up the cane, this time she started on the inside of the right knee, flip, flip, flip, each contact with his skin, a livid pink line, an inch between each, on alternate legs, each mark greeted with a grunt or a groan, each slowly getting nearer to the groin, the sightless body knowing exactly where. More

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