Remembering what the girl had written about him on the wall of building six, Wally Inglass smiled a tight, even little smile in the over-heated confines of his maroon car, and said, “You’ll wish you could do it with a donkey after I get through with you—if you have the strength left to do so much as swallow spit.”
* * * *
“What stinks?” Precious Isaacs shifted slightly, allowing herself to slide slowly off Mayo’s splayed legs and her frowsy quilted pink nylon comforter, until her bare feet and uncovered knees hit the matted-down carpeting next to her poster-decorated bed alcove. Mayo raised himself up to a half-sitting position with his elbows, clearly displeased at the interruption of the aftrnoon’s foreplay. Brushing aside the slippery spray of hair that had fallen, unnoticed, into hi
