CHAPTER FOUR
For how many days, or even weeks, the happy foursome kept up their fervent activities, only June knew. For, almost daily, she kept her private diary of the events: the classes they went to, the times they lunched on hamburgers together, and the two Sunday afternoons when they picnicked at a lakeside beach. She shared her written words with no one, not even Connie, whose happiness she recorded as faithfully as her own: each session of f*****g in bed, the interchange of partners . . . the repetition of the wine-christening ceremonies. All of it flowed from her busy pen.
But it was not to last, and it ended, for the time being, as quickly as it had started. One late Sunday afternoon, after a wondrous session in the girl's bedroom, the four youngsters eagerly laid plans f
