Epilogue
The reunion for the Phillips Exeter class of 1983 was being held in the Mason-Gorges Assembly Hall in Concord, New Hampshire. The dress, of course, was formal.
Mark and I had flown up to Concord the afternoon before, checked into Demerit Bed and Breakfast, and spent a few hours touring historical sites. After dinner at a Japanese steakhouse, we’d returned to the B&B, unlocked the door to our adjoining rooms, and stripped.
I stroked the scars on Mark’s thigh. They had healed well, and in a short amount of time—perhaps not very surprising, considering who he was—he’d been back to using the stairs at the WBIS.
But oddly enough, they were extremely sensitive, and he shuddered and bit back a moan as I caressed them with lips and tongue.
Now, however, it was time for the reunion.
