“Shouldn’t you talk to Bergoa’s father, and then the Priest?” Mother Sofala asked Father, giving him an almost gentle nudge.“Hmmmmm? Oh, yea...,” Father said, finally closing his mouth.He looked at me lying on the ground and laughed. “You might want to bathe and put on clean clothing,” he chuckled.When I looked, I realized that I had dried blood spatters and smears all over my clothes from attacking the bandits and then dragging their bodies away, as well as from carrying and burying the men from. ” I can’t stop the thrill that courses through me at the sound of the familiar deep voice. But then, I don’t want to. I’m horny, and he knows. “Hi, Jason.” I turn away from my husband’s tool bench in the garage. The weather is hot; summer in our town always is. Today it’s at least one hundred degrees. Suddenly, it feels hotter than that. My neighbor’s son stands shirtless in the driveway; his baggy shorts hang low around trim hips. He’s not wearing boxers, and a shiver races through me. More

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