Silently, known and yet unacknowledged, he watched the punkish little blonde work—her long trim arms, and the bare midriff that made him want to touch her there and yet reach farther, too, and her taut boobies standing so high and apart and braless beneath the thin cotton, and the shaped of her slyly knowing face. Ooh, he was a bad, bad boy, wasn’t he? he told himself...All too soon, though, smiling with grand courtesy, the enigmatic clerk wrapped the beautiful porno magazine in a rustling brown bag, and she put it right in his trembling hands, and in tones somehow faintly ironic she wished him a good day. He opened his mouth and almost said something— But then, agitated and confused, he could only nod shakily and almost stagger out.
That night Brad was even more uncomfortable than usual
