Archives for July 1, 2013

Chapter 28

 

On Tuesday, Robin told Ron that she was going back to Minneapolis after the holiday. She told him on the phone. She didn’t want to see his face when he heard the words, but she saw it in her mind’s eye anyway.  She asked him if there was anything special that he wanted to do with her before she left.

“When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

“What about over Christmas?”

“That’s too soon,” she said. “I won’t be able to afford it.”

Ron blurted, “I don’t want you to go.”

“That’s my home now Ron and besides you have a lot going on here. You have your students and you need to find a place to live. And I think I will be better off out there.”

“What’s so great about Minneapolis?”

“You thought it was beautiful when you were here.  Maybe you’ll come back and visit me again.”

Ron felt himself freeze on the other end of the phone. Go back there! She really expected him to go back there? The last time it almost killed him to be there.

She heard the silence on the other end of the line. Then she said in a small voice, “What’s so great about living here?”

“It’s our home.”

“It’s your home.” Now she wondered if she should have told him at all until the last minute. He would spend the next two days sulking about it and be no fun at all. Why couldn’t he just learn to accept things as they were? Why did he always have to try to change everything until it was the way that he wanted it?

They drove into New York City.  Ron told her that the school had given them an extra half day off. The rumor was that they wanted to save the money on heat but no one cared. At the end of the day on Tuesday, Irene Emanuel came on the loudspeaker and announced that Father Jones had decided that everyone could use the extra time as a reward for their hard work and so the girls could help their mothers prepare for the holiday feast. They were also reminded that there would be extra masses said on Thursday and that there was no better way of showing thanks and appreciation than to come to God’s house to start the holiday.

The city was alive with traffic and holiday lights and an air of the frenzied festivities. Ron was pleased to see that the backstreet where he was always able to find a place to park was still relatively undiscovered. He side his Chevy neatly into a place and then they walked around the block to her old school.

Before she’d left for Minneapolis, Robin was on scholarship to an acting school. He had picked her up from school the four nights a week that classes were held and they had walked these streets together often and knew all of the cafes.
Ron thought that the West Village was nothing like the East Village. Things seemed cleaner and more expensive. They slid into a booth at a café on West 4^th Street. They stared out the window and Robin remembered how much she loved The City and how she would someday come back and live here.  Then he began quoting lines from the Leonard Melfi play Birdbath.

It was a play that they had done on stage together. And the lines made her laugh and he was laughing too and then he took her hands and said, “I really don’t want you to go.”

He noticed that she didn’t pull her hands back when she said, “I know.”

He decided to plunge on. “Suppose we got married?”

Now she did pull her hands back.  “Ron, we aren’t even lovers anymore and besides, I’m seeing someone.”

Ron face crumpled like a squashed carton.  He lit a cigarette. His hands were shaking. The place seemed very hot and noisy. He looked at his reflection in the glass. He stared at the table. He tried to look anywhere but at her. He desperately wanted not to cry. Finally, he asked, “Do you love him?”

She laughed lightheartedly. “I don’t think so.”

Then he got very quiet. All he could see was images of Robin and her faceless, nameless lover. She stood on her toes to kiss him. Her hands hurried his hips as they made love. Her special smiles were all reserved for him. It was for him that she brought home presents. It was to him that she told her secret thoughts. She told him how she counted in colors. She sang Broadway tunes for him. He could see her now. Her voice gentle and high as she sang, “I would die, I would die, I would strangle myself with my tie. If ever you said good-bye, then I’d die.” He remembered when she has sung that for him and now he did wear a tie every day.

Robin quietly kicked herself for the way that she had handled it. Why hadn’t she seen it coming? Why had she told him that she was going back? Why had she ever mentioned Richard?

“Ron, don’t you see how much baggage we have?” she asked quietly.

“I see but I don’t understand why we can’t make it different.”

When he dropped her off, she leaned over and kissed him. It was a long and tender kiss. He felt her arms go around his neck and felt her breasts push against his chest and he tried hard not to over-react and so he didn’t react at all.

“Will you call me tomorrow?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Ron and then she was gone. He drove down towards Rahway and when he passed the house he saw that all the lights were on and that there were cars in the driveway. He slowed down but he didn’t stop. He drove back up the parkway to his apartment and when he walked in the door the phone was ringing. It was Zoe.

Ron loved many things about Zoe but right now chief among them was that she never asked where he had been. He was there now and that was all that she seemed to care about.

“I can’t wait till Friday,” said Zoe. “I miss sleeping with you and drawing you and doing the things that we do.”

“It’s good that you’re getting to see your sisters and your parents. How are things going up there?”

“Heidi really wants to meet you. She says that you sound neato.”

“Neato,” repeated Ron. “Well, tell Heidi that’s the very first time that I have been told that I am neato. And what has your older sister had to say?”

“She just says to have fun with you and to be careful to not let you break my heart. But I don’t care. You can break my heart if you need to break it.”

All at once Ron felt tender and guilty. She was so incredibly vulnerable. She deserved at least some modicum of loyalty.

“On Saturday, can we go and pick out a stone?”

“Sure,” said Ron. “Should we be stoned to pick out a stone?”

He waited for Zoe to laugh but she answered seriously. “I think it would help if we were. We would caress the surfaces with more sensitivity and feel if there were interior cracks or faults.”

Ron smiled. Maybe this was the girl for him. Then she solidified the feeling saying softly, “I’ve been so horny. I’m wet all the time. I can’t believe how much I have missed sleeping with you.”

After the call, Ron looked through his albums. They had salvaged much more from his burnt out shell of an apartment than he thought would have been possible, and Zoe had brought down her stereo. He put an old Dylan album on the turntable and grinned to himself as he placed the needle in just the right spot. Dylan intoned, “If you’re travelling in the North Country fair, where the winds hit heavy on the borderline. Remember me to the one who lives there. She once was a true love of mine.”

Immediately tears sprang to his eyes. He needed to smoke a joint. He always needed more than one and so he rolled his customary 3 joints and lay back and listened to the songs roll over him. Then he shifted to Jackson Browne’s first album and dropped the needle at the start of Jamaica. He lay his head back and thought, there they were in a nutshell. Robin the girl from the north county, and Zoe the beautiful Captain’s daughter from Jamaica.

The taste of the pot was fine. He felt it swirl into him with a welcoming haze and the soft glow of the interior light that illuminated his brain when he was high. But then “My Opening Farewell” found its way into his mind and he saw Robin standing in front of that open window.  He wondered if it would be easier if he was the one who was going and not the one who had been left behind.

When he slept that night he had one of his two recurring dreams. He could almost feel himself groan in his sleep when the dream started. It was by far the one that scared him the most. In the other dream, he was waiting in a car and then he was shot and in a hospital bed while people gathered around him. He was not in pain in the dream but he could not move and then he felt himself getting better and stronger and would find himself in the car again waiting to be shot. That was the easier dream, but this one scared him so completely.

He was in the basement of his mother’s house. And he was digging up the concrete floor. He was digging up a body that he had buried there. The body was wrapped in plastic and he could not see who it was but the fear that rushed through him caused his heart to race and made him break out into a sweat in his sleep. He could not remember killing someone. But there was this body and he was sure that he had put it there and now he was trying to get it out before someone discovered it. He pounded on the concrete and felt it crack and then break into huge chunks. He swung the sledge hammer down hard and watched sparks and dust and small shards of stone break off. And then he could see the plastic and the sight woke him up.

He sat up shaking in the darkness. He could never really kill anyone, could he? The answer did not come from inside of him. Was the silence an indictment?  Had he really done it and repressed it? Would he be found out as the murderer that he was and thrown into some dank hole and be forgotten? Had he really ended a life? No, he tried to scream to himself. He could not have done that, he would never do that.

Why would he bury the body there? Right in front of the washing machine and the dryer. How had he repaved the floor? George would surely have noticed. He would have been caught a long time ago if it had really happened. But he kept dreaming it and the dreams came at the most unexpected of times. A body wrapped in heavy plastic beneath a concrete floor in his mother’s basement and he was responsible for it being there. He was the only one who knew that it was there. Ron tried to tell himself that he read too much Edgar Allen Poe.

Chapter 27

That Monday Ron sensed a new feeling in his classes; it was the air of expectation. They had not had a holiday since school began and with the brief exception of Halloween, it had all been business and their teachers had driven them to start to create an atmosphere of hard work. No one had driven them harder than Ron, but he was probably the least aware of it. He was having fun. He was learning to teach and it never occurred to him one time that he was assigning pages each and every night and that they were writing on average two essays a week.

He was surprised when Irene Emanuel asked him to stop at her office and to bring his grade book with him.  He had tried very hard to be neat with the book, but there had been a large number of transfers. Most of these had happened during the first weeks of class. Irene Emanuel had a keen ear and she had heard the girls talking about how much they loved his class. She had also questioned some of the older girls about what went on in his room.

“He works us like slaves, Sister, but he makes it seem like fun. I wind up doing twice as much work for him as I do for my other teachers, but it’s not because I am afraid of him.”

“Then why, Andrea, do you think it is that you work so hard for him?”

“I don’t want to hurt him, Sister.”

Irene Emanuel looked at her with some sense of surprise. “What do you mean?”

“When some of us didn’t do our homework, he was hurt. We could see it on his face. It depressed him and made him sad. And we want to make him happy, because the class is so much fun when he is happy.”

Irene Emanuel thought that either this man was a genius or the recipient of dumb luck to have stumbled into that situation. She had spent enough time talking with him to be pretty sure that he was no genius.

They sat together in her office and Ron handed her the grade book. She looked at it and hid the shock that she felt at seeing 20 graded entries for each student. She wondered what he was grading them on. She said, “The assignments are numbered, Mr. Tuck, how do you remember what the numbers represent?”

“At the back of the book Sister, there is a list of the assignments for each class with the numbers next to them.”

She scanned the back of the book. She felt her mouth open when she saw how many of the assignments were essays. Ron searched her face while she scanned his book. He looked for some clue that would let him know if she was pleased with his work or if he was about to be fired. He couldn’t take it if they were going to fire him. If he had to leave his students and be a failure to them, everything that he said to them would be lost. They would just be the words of some loser guy who claimed to know what was right but was just full of shit like everyone else.

“Mr. Tuck, I rarely say this, and I cannot actually remember having said it before, but you need to slow down. It’s a long way until June and you do not wish to exhaust yourself and your students before you even get to the winter.”

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. If he knew anything at all about the Catholics in general and these nuns in particular it was that they would never fire him for working too hard.

When he got home from school he changed his clothes quickly and was out the door before the call came from Zoe. She listened to the phone ring in the empty apartment and thought about just surprising him and driving down. After all it was her apartment too, even if she didn’t pay any of the rent. Why did she feel that she always had to call first? But she let the phone ring and ring and then hung up and went into the bathroom so that she could vomit up her lunch before it turned to fat.

Robin looked very tense when she answered the door. Ron could see it immediately. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head and her eyes got this faraway look in them. Her high cheekbones seemed more hollow than usual and she said the words while she stared at a closed door. “She locked herself in there and she has been drinking all morning. It reminds me of why it is so bad for me around here.”

“It’s because you are living with her,” he said.

“That’s part of it. I thought I would be staying with you and then I wouldn’t have to see any of this.”

Ron felt a freezing wash of guilt pass over him and she saw it too. She knew what it was. He was feeling the need to protect her. She didn’t want him to protect her. She didn’t want anyone to protect her.

They walked to the corner store and bought two containers of coffee and then they sat in his car and drank them. Ron tried to brighten the mood. He grinned his best dimpled grin and said, “Do you remember what our holidays used to be like?”

Robin sipped and smiled, and then she laughed. “They were awful, Ron. Between your father and mother and my father and mother and Rahway, we ate five meals and went home feeling sick and wanting to die.”

Ron said, “And our mothers would time each of our visits to see who we spent more time with.”

“That was your mother,” said Robin. “God, how that woman hates me.” She doesn’t hate you as much as she was frightened by the way that I feel about you. She thought we were going to get married.”

The thought pierced into Robin’s brain instantly. There had been a time when she had thought so too. Before all the pot and before the arguments about how he made his money and before he had forced her to have Hank live with them. She supposed that she could still have him marry her, but then how would she ever see the world? Ron was staying in New Jersey. He was a local guy. He had limited expectations for what he believed was possible. He would tie her up and hold her back and eventually she would wind up knocked up, poor and living with a man who reminded her too much of her father. It was only one small step from that to her becoming her mother and that was not going to be her life! She felt her resolve grow stronger. Ron watched her face harden and wondered what he had done wrong.

Chapter 26

On Sunday, Ron threw himself into his work. He lay across the mattresses and spread out papers and drank coffee and read. And then he was transported. He was back with his students and their essays embraced him like loving arms and he shared his feeling for them through his eyes and through his pen. He could picture each of them now as he read. He could see their faces and saw their hands crafting the essays as he walked up and down the aisles of his classroom.

Andrea wrote, “I can’t say that I enjoyed these stories but I’m glad that I read them.”

Donna wrote, “I feel stupid when I read this stuff because I never see the things in the stories that you do and I don’t think that I ever will.”

Lizette wrote, “These people were corny but not as corny as the Grendel story. I really hated that one.”

Anita wrote, “It helped to have us tell the stories to each other. Maybe they were stories that were meant to be told instead of being read because it was really interesting to hear them but really boring to read them.”

Judy wrote, I don’t agree with the Wife of Bath. I don’t think that women wish to have dominion over men. I think they want men to treat them like people. I think they still want that.”

Ron read the last one again with large smile on her face. She got it! That is what the literature is for. It is to help people to think about the world and themselves in the world.

Yvonne wrote, “I understand why they hated Jews, I hate them too.” Ron groaned as he read that one. “They got what they deserved for killing Jesus.”

Ron wondered if he had the right to address those kinds of prejudices. Was his goal to teach them about the language or to change the way that they thought.  Well, the two did not have to be mutually exclusive Could he show her that he hated that attitude and not have her think that he hated her for having that attitude?

The phone rang and it was Zoe and she sounded vibrant and filled him with her electricity. “Are you working?’

“Yes, I’ve been at it for hours.”

“Have you thought about me?”

“Yes.”

He wondered if a woman really deserved to hear the truth when she asked a question like that. He hadn’t thought of her once. He thought about Robin and their conversation and their plans for tomorrow evening. He had thought about his students. But he hadn’t thought about her. Did that mean that he didn’t love her?

“Do you want to see me?”

Ron winced. “I can’t drive up there today Zoe, I really have too much work to get done before tomorrow.”

Zoe giggled. “With my sisters at home there are plenty of cars around. I could just drive down to see you.”

“That would be great,” said Ron. “Why don’t you leave in about an hour? That way I will be completely ready for a break when you get here.”

When they hung up, he thought. “Zoe is like a wet dream and I thought of nothing but her until I got Robin’s letter. And since Robin has been here, I haven’t thought of her at all, except how to keep her a secret from Robin. But Robin doesn’t make me happy and Zoe does. Does that mean that I don’t want to be happy?  Shouldn’t I be thinking about the girl who does make me happy? But would that make me a real phony if I tried to tell myself what I should be thinking about? Too many questions without answers!” Ron tried to think about Zoe and automatically found himself squeezing his cock. He never touched himself when he thought about Robin. He wondered if that had always been true and what it meant if it was true. Then he turned back to the papers.

Rosa wrote, “All these people were greedy and their stories talk about how bad greed is. Did they know they were being bad when they were greedy?”

Una wrote, “I want to read stories that are true. Why are all the stories that we read made up?”

Ron wrote back to each of them like they were having a conversation. He knew that sometimes what he scrawled was illegible but they would just ask him what he had written and it would give him a chance to say what he had said to that particular girl to the whole class. Illegible handwriting could be a tool, it occurred to him. Unless they didn’t ask what it meant. In that case they probably wouldn’t have wanted to read what he had written anyway.

Chapter 25

 

The next morning, Ron drove down to see Robin. He had driven Zoe home about 11o’clock the night before and was exhausted by the time that he called Robin. They had agreed that he would drive down the next morning. But when he woke up, lying  in his and Zoe’s bed, Zoe not there but the scent of her lingering on their sheets and on his body and in his brain, he decided that it was time for the difficult conversation.

As he showered, he tried to formulate what he wanted to say.  The question really was “why had she done that to him?” Why had she utterly destroyed him that way and left him feeling so empty and then continued to torment him? What had he done to her?  The answer came to him with stunning clarity as the water sprayed over his face. He had refused to leave New Jersey with her. He had dumped their cats on her. He had slept with other women while they were together. He had refused to stop smoking pot and staying stoned most of the time. He had told her that he was less interested in being romantic than she was. He had let her work a full time job while he lived off this scam or that scam.

True, he had always paid for his share of things. True, they had agreed to have other people in their lives. True, he had joined her in Minneapolis when his assistantship was up. True that he was completely straight when he was with her out there. True that she knew that it was supposed to be a fresh start away from their families, away from their friends where the two of them could just create a life for each other. True that he was now much more romantic that she seemed to be.

Ron tried to juggle the competing truths. Were they a wash? Did it just mean that between them they had beat the shit out of whatever it was that they once had and that now it no longer existed?

He had never been deliberately cruel to her. That was the thing that he could not shake. She had set out to break him into little pieces and when he was broken, she had enjoyed seeing him try to piece himself back together. That was the real question. Why had she been so deliberately cruel? If they had any chance at anything, he needed to have that resolved in his head.

He would do it carefully. Robin had a way of reducing him, making him feel silly and stupid. He thought about how she did it. She used, he tried to think of a phrase, reductive simplicity! That was it! Ron smiled, pleased that he had come up with a way to put it into words.

Robin met him at the door. She looked radiant and for that moment all of his resolve vanished into her beautiful face, the smile that was there for him and only for him. The way that she that she took his hand and slid it around her waist, as she kissed him so gently and molded her body to him. Then she said, “My mother is sleeping, can we just make a break for it?”

Ron smiled and said, “I have an idea. Let’s get in the car and drive to the ocean.”

She was thrilled with the plan and said, “I’ll get my camera.”

 

As soon as they got into the car, Robin picked up the scent of another woman. Zoe didn’t wear perfume. They hadn’t made love in the car. Robin couldn’t have said what it was that was informing her nostrils but it was there and it was unmistakable. She thought about Minneapolis and whether she could go back.

The ride down the shore was a straight shot down the Garden State Parkway. The road was almost deserted on this Saturday morning.

Robin said, “How was the dance?”

Ron laughed and said, “They love disco and those girls can sure dance. I wish I could dance that way.”

“Did you dance with them?”

“No, they would have lost all respect for me if they had seen me dance, but I did wind up taking two of them home.”

“Is that smart?”

“No, but it was late and their rides didn’t show up.”

That was the scent that she smelled. Robin relaxed. She was still very much in control with no competition about which to worry and then she shook her head to herself. “Competition for what?” she thought.

“Robin, I love seeing you. It feels so good to be spending some time with you but I have to ask you about something and I’m not sure that you want to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” she said automatically.

Ron stammered and felt flushed. Everything that he had been thinking disappeared from his mind like the lines of an etch-a-sketch that someone had shaken clean. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“Ok,” she said, “what did you want to ask?”

“I don’t know,” said Ron, and fell silent.

Long moments passed. Ron drove and tried to reformulate his thoughts. How was he going to put it? Was she right? Was it that he was going to work the conversation around to wanting to sleep with her? He didn’t think so. He thought about Zoe and their love-making last night. He thought about how she lay under him on her belly and squeezed her muscles like she wanted to suck the very life out of him through his cock. He thought about the way that he had such incredible control when he slept with her. They would fuck until she orgasmed and then he’d pull himself out of her and let her bring him off. He felt himself hardening.

“Do you want to eat?” said Robin.

They reached the shore town exit and pulled into an International House of Pancakes. The both were grinning. IHOP had been one of their favorite places to go for dinner when they were living together in Verona.

She had pancakes and he ordered an omelet. They emptied the bottomless pitcher of coffee and asked for more. She showed him her camera. They talked about how the ocean would look.

“I need to talk with you about Minneapolis,” Ron blurted.

“What about it?” said Robin, putting her elbows on the table and bringing her hands, in fists now, up under her chin.

Ron tried to ease his way in. “Why do you want to leave?”

“No place is forever,” said Robin.

Ron paused. He let that sink in. Maybe no relationship was forever either. He began again. “Why did things work out the way that they did?”

She met his eyes and said coolly, “Because you left.”

Ron was flabbergasted. What could he possibly say to that? He fell silent and felt defeated. He felt himself drawing into himself, curling into a little ball inside of himself.

Then she said, “Let’s go see the water.”

 

They walked along the beach in a steady drizzle. The water was calm and the gulls were diving down and making small splashes as they fed. The beach was deserted and the white foam of the small waves licked the sand with the gentle lapping of a soft tongue. Everything was shuttered closed and the breeze blew the rain into their faces. The summertime signs seemed old and lonely and forsaken. Ron wondered if they were like insects that had outlived their season and did not know enough to curl up and die.

Robin sensed the depression that passed over them. These were quiet moments that she no longer loved because they led to conversations that she was not ready to have, like the one over breakfast. Life should be bright and happy and filled with bounty and love. Regrets were just silly and more than that they were a trap from which she was determined to extricate herself. She thought to herself, “I can’t fight his sadness. It’s too strong and besides it is boring.”

Then he seemed to brighten and said, “After the holiday I am diving right into Shakespeare, Macbeth with the seniors and Romeo and Juliet with the 9^th graders.”

She smiled and said, “That’s quite a combination.”

“When did you last read them?” he asked.

“Oh, I can’t remember,” she said dismissively.  “I’ve been reading new stories. There is so much that is new that I really don’t want to revisit things that are old. Maybe when I am 40 or 50 I will want to go back and look at them.”

 

Chapter 24

Ron went through Friday as if he was in a fog. It surprised him and it frightened him. Nothing had distracted him from his students until now. Thoughts of Zoe never entered his head when he was teaching. The fire had distracted him but not when he was teaching. And now, in less than two days, Robin had him hearing her voice and seeing her face in back of his eyes almost non-stop.

He tried calling Zoe when he got back to his apartment. To his surprise she answered the phone. She almost squealed when she heard his voice. “I’ve been thinking about you almost non-stop,” she said. “We have to get an answering machine.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you too,” said Ron, trying to tell himself that it was an obligatory thing to say.”When are you coming home?”

“I thought I would stay her through the holiday,” said Zoe. “They make a big deal about it here.”

At first it didn’t register with Ron. What holiday? Did she mean Christmas that was a month away? Could she really mean that? Then it dawned on him. Thanksgiving was this Thursday. She meant Thanksgiving! “Whatever you need to do,” said Ron. “Are you running?”

“Yes, every day and riding my bicycle and swimming and feeling great except that I miss you so much. I want to be with you. I want to live in the country with you and make babies and raise chickens for the eggs and plant a garden.” He didn’t respond and there was a pause and then she asked, “Do you want to come up and pick me up like we used to and bring me back home and ravish me?” She lowered her voice when she said this last part.

“I really do,” said Ron. “But I have this thing at my mother’s house in preparation for the holiday and I have so much school work to do because it is a short week next week and I assigned all these essay tests that I want to grade and get back to the kids before the break.”

She seemed crestfallen, and just said, “Oh.”

The guilt spread through him like dysentery in a refugee camp. He felt himself begin to sweat and cramp. He wanted to get off the phone. He wanted to call Robin. Then he realized that the sound of her voice had given him an erection and he wanted to fuck her. But who was “her”?

“Look, suppose I drive up now and we take a ride somewhere and at least get to spend some time together.”

Her voice instantly brightened again. She said “OK, when are you coming?”

“I just want to change my clothes,” said Ron.

 

As soon as he hung him, he dialed Robin’s number. She answered on the first ring and before he could give her the excuse that he had invented about having to do something at the school that night, she said, “Can we get together tomorrow? Some of my mother’s friends are coming over and I promised her that I would spend a little time with her, but if you aren’t busy, I would really like to see you tomorrow or maybe later tonight.”

Almost involuntarily Ron found himself saying, “What time later?”

“Whatever works best for you.  Drive down sometime after 10.”

“That works,” said Ron. “I have this thing tonight at school.”

“You’re going to be exhausted,” she said. “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow.”

“Why don’t I call you when I’m done,” said Ron.

There was that unmistakable lilting laughter that communicated to him that she knew that he wanted to see her and that she was pleased that he wanted to see her. Then she said, “No, I’m being selfish. Call me in the morning.”

Ron wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

 

 

When Zoe got into the car she kissed him with incredible hunger. And then she whispered into his ear, “Please just take me home and rip off my clothes and do wicked things to me.” Then she reached down below the steering wheel and opened his pants. She stroked him and then said coyly. “Will you leave it out all the way home?”  A droplet of clear liquid oozed out of the head of his cock and she said, “You have missed me.”