But Eleanor didn't care what Sam wanted. She also seemed to know very little about the new school she was sending Sam to. Any questions were answered ...ith vague responses, such as "It's a private school," "I'm sure it's fine," "It's on a mountain or something," "I don't know what it looks like. Stop asking."She even seemed unsure of the name. She called it "Grain Mountain or something." Sam tried looking it up but couldn't find it, and then gave up trying to get any more information from. You been fucking him without telling us?” number three retorted.“I heard it.”“From who?”“Someone, I don’t remember. Heard it in the caf. Someone saw a peak of him after school in the shower. Hung like a horse, and thick as an arm.”“Yeah, right, dream on. Crackers have small cocks. Don’t you watch porn?” number one said, dismissively.“Porn ain’t real. Are you that dense? You need to get your head out of the gutter.”“I know what I’d like to get my head into,” the third girl said, causing them all. Her clothes were also chosen for comfort over style, baggy jumpers, cheap jeans and flat shoes had taken the place of the short skirts, low cut tops and high heels she'd favoured when they first met. Definitely a body showing the effects of child birth, comfort and time but sex in a relationship so long established was more about connecting to the person you loved than raw lust... but... still... it would be nice if she...Tom was snapped from his musings by somebody coughing gently. Slightly. "get some things ready for later today." Of course. Uh, Mr. Barclay?" Interesting, at least she knew my name... "Tom, please, given the circumstances." Tom, could you find my clothes, please?" Oops, sorry. Be right back."I went into the bedroom and started poking around. Nothing. Ditto in the kitchen. In the living room I found a coat that wasn't mine on the back of a chair, and then, in the entranceway, a pile of clothing. A small pile of clothing. A very small pile of clothing. As in, a lacy.