Your wife pinches the head distractedly. “I could tell that the boys really got a kick out of that one.” “Well, I guess so,” you admit. “Wha... about when Witherspoon grabbed her leg and inspected it like a fine ham? Didn’t that excite you?” she asks with a scandalous giggle. You chuckle along. “That was pretty bold of him,” you admit. “He was bold with me, too,” she says, blushing. “I know. Wow, when he told you raise your arms so he could look at your…um, yeah,” you gulp thinking about it again. This wasn't going to be a pleasant evening, she thought. She went into the kitchen and made him a tray of food anyway and brought it to him. He was passed out on the chair. She nudged him a little and he awoke."Here's your supper. Eat a little, you'll feel better," she told him. He took one look at the tray and knocked it out of her hands, it and its contents spilling onto the floor, soup and crackers, hot tea all over the place. What a mess! Now she would have to clean it up. "Would this. He was from Charlotte, son of a mechanic. Despite these differences we actually got along well. We left each other alone for the most part and had enough communication to do our jobs well.The days were pretty routine. Leave out around 9. Come back around 4. Eat dinner, watch television and sleep. Spending days outside was infinitely better than sitting in the grey of the the prison walls. Being in the public made it seem a little less confining and the workers tended to treat us well. Buying us. She liked men and enjoyed being loved, had for as long as she could recall. Her view of the future stood clouded at best and generally dark, heavily curtained.Neither she nor Matthew had ever used the word "love," as far as she could remember, and he had not said that he hoped she would marry him, only that he felt obliged. She did not know what she would say if he asked. He was hardly the man of her girlish dreams. Even poor Clemence had been much easier to look at. She silently wept for.