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Wood in the deepest mourning. She could feel his penis pressing against her, half-erect under the starched black tuxedo pants. Not a word passed between them. ‘Oh, ah. “Come this way,” he said. You two have a good time. ’ Martha looked up, belligerence in her tone. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. She let him take off her skirt as she ritualistically removed his jeans along with his boxers. She was greatly heartened by doing this.
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