Everyone returned to their seats. She appeared to be ever so slightly flustered. Slightly red in the face.One of the men offered her a drink and pulle... out a flask.Jo readily accepted.He poured the drink into a small plastic cup and handed it across. As he leant over to hand to the drink, the train took a violent swerve across a set of points.The drink spilled all down her blouse.The material was virtually transparent. Jo’s sheer white bra clearly visible beneath the soaking blouse. Her. Her song took on a darker tone as she related each horrible event, each terrifying death after that, but always the song remained one of hope, of enduring and of bearing true. Themes she knew would reach the seemingly unconscious Betty, even if she couldn't understand the words themselves, and would help her continue to fight the disease instead of merely accepting whatever came. When she related how she'd finally awakened, sure everyone else was dead, only to find her father holding her, she. Mr. Johnson was much like Phil?s dad, at least what he could gather from studying the few pictures of his dad from the family album. The first day of school, Mr. Johnson noticed the shy withdrawn boy right away. Right off, he saw the cotton panties the boy wore and pulled him to the side. He told the boy he would be teased unmercifully if found out, to go to the bathroom and take them off and return them to him. Everyday after that, Phil removed his girly underwear to be stored until the end of. ..explain...please," she said softly.Her whisper stopped me in my tracks. Slowly I turned, step by step, inch by inch, I walked through her front door and into her house. She closed the door behind me as I sat down in a recliner. She entered the room and froze looking at where I’d chosen to sit. "It's weird to see you sitting in a recliner fully dressed..." It's weird to have a stranger walk into your house and give you a handjob without speaking to you," I replied, winking at her so she'd know.