“Jesus,” I whispered and fainted.
* * * *
David Claire found me an hour later. He took me to the main house, into his private room, and gave me a glass of cold water, two Tylenol. He told me, “You can stay here for the night, Barker. I’ll be on my best behavior. No s****l stuff, although I’d like to. My first concern is for your health. My second concern is what exactly happened inside that room. Who taunted you? Why do you have jizm on your tee? Why were you passed out?”
I mumbled something to him that I couldn’t translate, and simply fell asleep in his arms, dreaming of being a professional rodeo star in Stockton County, Oklahoma.
* * * *
The next morning, July 2, spoke of wet heat and blinding sunshine. I woke well-rested in David’s bed untouched and with my underwear still on. The
