Johnny was standing only a meter away clipping a shrub, sweat pasting his thin T-shirt against his chiseled chest, the bulge in his tight jeans distra...tingly enormous. “Yes, Mrs. Khanna?” “Come sit and have a cool drink,” she invited. “I wouldn’t want it to get out that I drive my help too hard.” Johnny poured two glasses of lemonade, perspiration dripping off him like rain. “That’s disgusting, Johnny. Take that off and dry yourself.” Sonia extended him a beach towel after enjoying his. Unless you've lived at an orphanage, you don't understand that almost any place else would be better. They do the best they can, but it isn't enough. All the kids feel like rejects. Go over to St. Cecelia's and ask Mother Superior to give you the big tour. Remember, they're going to be trying to make it seem as good as they can. Look at where the boys sleep, check out the clothes they're wearing, and then, go take a look at the food they're eating. It wouldn't take very much for any home to be. More

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