Back to better times, when my wife Helen and I attended symphonies, ballets and operas, and traveled through Europe…each piece of music I hear is a ...emory..’ Hudson looked at a framed photograph of Helen Goldstein which stood next to the fireplace. She was in a straw sunhat with green streamers, looking radiant and smiling in a Hawaiian beach, seemingly enjoying herself when the photo was shot. When would her death stop haunting the poor old man? Hudson knew that the Professor lived on his. He also moved me sideways to fuck me on the bonnet of the car. As he gripped my ass to lift me, I panicked. In fright, I grabbed his head, frantically kissing him before I whimpered, ‘Please, please, X! Not here! Come, come to my cabin.’And I took him. Once inside, on the mat on the floor, close to the glass sliding door with some of the parks’ lights seeping in, we fucked. I know Mari, a lie like ‘X threw me down and raped me’ would sound better. It’s what I told myself for almost twenty years. More

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