CHAPTER FOUR
I speak with Sylvie the next day. Questions, so many questions.
She’s in a terrific mood. I catch her humming when I come home from work. The girl has such resiliency; I think I’d still be reeling from the hard action of the night before. But then, I wouldn’t know. I’ve had it hard but never quite like that.
“Who fisted you first?” I ask her, once I’m settled on the couch and have her attention.
“Hurst,” she answers. As I expected.
“And was he the best?”
“He’s always the best.”
“Always the best, huh? Why?”
“Always because…” she stops.
“Because why?”
“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, smiling bashfully
“If he’s always the best, why don’t you go back to him?”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t, why not?”
“There’s never any going back with him. You leave, you’re gone. That’s his w
