Chapter Eighteen
We wile away in the bright afternoon sun, eating sandwiches and drinking lemonade. Gail has long ago captured the last grape but remains lying on the lower section of the lounge chair, head between Mrs. Fenwick’s thighs, tongue and lips energetically serving her benefactress. Mrs. Fenwick tousles her hair and coos words of encouragement.
Meanwhile, Salma seats herself in a similar position, snaps her fingers and has Pablo likewise lie between her boots. A pleasant conversation ensues as the two beautiful women casually receive the pair of ardent tongues. Though it is my day off, my inquiring mind etches mental notes on an imaginary pad.
The women reminisce. Many of the references I understand and are documented in the 20,000 word file awaiting editorial slaughter in my
