And then Yves would work for his father. Or even go into politics. Rose-Marie pulled herself up onto her toes, pressing her bosom against Yves’, and...then sliding down so that his erect penis, brought to life by the drugs, could slip into her vagina. She smiled at Celine, who was stroking Jacques’ penis, proud to show her how very close she was to Yves. And the music was still pumping. Slower. More romantic. More sensuous. As she slid up and down on Yves’ shaft, angling herself so that Celine. They looked tired and drawn and said they’d been a little sick. Everyone understood. Who hadn’t been? As time passed, though, they entered the conversations, grew jollier, sampled the dishes off the lazy Susan, told tales. My wife ate a little and returned to our cabin and the jokes and comments continued. To his darling: If I love you, what business is it of yours? The line I was thinking is an old one, from Goethe. The couple was sitting directly across from me, acting as though nothing had. More

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