Her sobs and tears stopped and I pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her. She wiped her eyes and cheeks, smearing mascara on the linen, and th...n, daintily, blew her nose. She looked up, eyes reddened, and said, “I can’t have children anymore, you know that. But I’m not sure I can have sex, either. No, shush,” she said, reaching up to put a forefinger on my open lips. “But, what I would like, if it’s okay with you, I would like to lie naked on our bed and let me… well, let me take care. ”Gail gave my hand a squeeze. Missus Campbell said, “We don’t hold with Catholics. We’re Baptist.”“That’s good.” I continued. “We went to a Christmas program that one of the local Baptist churches in our area put on. I know that they have divorced persons in that church in full membership.”I figured that I had landed sufficient atom bombs in their theology and shut up. After a few moments of silence. I said, “We have come to announce that we will be married in our Methodist church next Saturday. Further down the street you find a woman, obviously a prostitute. Severely malnourished, obviously looking to get money for her drugs. Needle tracks scar both arms from elbow to wrist. You sigh at her, shaking your finger, telling her how bad it is. You pull a steaming hot home cooked meal from your bag, telling her to eat. You notice as you continue walking that the state of the neighborhood is changing. The snow is melted in places where people have built fires in desperate attempt to keep. It was slapping, thwacking flesh-upon-flesh, my fingers digging into her hips while she shoved back, teeth bared in a silent snarl, her expression showing her need and greed.“Wuh-where can I do it?” I stammered at her.“In my nasty fucking arsehole,” Mrs Spencer replied. She reached back with one hand, forcing me against her, nails scratching my buttock and hip because the need and greed were on her. “Give me your cum right in my arse,” Mrs Spencer added. “God, Sammy, do it,” she gasped.That was.