”“What’s there not to know?”“Well, you know that bed upstairs makes a lot of noise when we’re bouncing around under the sheets. The raucou... might scare the kids.”“Oh, you dirty old man, always thinking about sex.”“Guilty as charged.”“Want to go now?” she said with a florid smile adding a little innuendo to the question.Without another word, they both stood up at the same time. Clark lifted her off her feet into his arms and carried her upstairs to the room with the squeaky bed. He kissed her. I quickly settled back and looked through the other hole that showed the entrance door. It was not very well lit scene and I could only, hardly figure out that the man coming in was the man working in the dean’s front office. I had seen him earlier. He was almost 40, well matured, neatly dressed, healthy and masculine with broad shoulders, full head of dark black hair. He had a dress pants, striped t-shirt; exciting me to what I might see hanging in front of this man. My eyes were literally. That in itself a severe wrong.It seemed that every river and creek had a different warlord ... all struggling to subdue his neighbor. Open combat with US troops hadn't ceased ... but it was descending into isolated acts causing great hardship on the civilians.Both the guerrillas and the US Army retaliated against rumored atrocities ... and the innocent suffered. Supposedly, the fighting stopped sometime between 1901 and 1916 ... supposedly ... it hadn't.The Moro ... a muslim sect made our. ‘Feel weird?’ Oliver asked as he came into the room. Jamie turned and looked at him. His brother had aged and matured, he had a well defined sideburns and a manicured beard. His brown hair was styled fashionably and he had bulked out slightly, he had grown up from being a geeky sixteen year old and at the mercy of every bully in the inner city school they went to. He looked and dressed well. ‘Fook yes,’ Jamie replied, slurring his speech. ‘You ain’t a ugly weak shit any more, right?’ Oliver.