To have him as my husband would be pleasure enough. But no children? I couldn’t bear it.

 I was obsessed with what Ruth had said, and I took ev...ry opportunity during that week to examine, as best I could without (heaven forbid!) Caleb’s noticing, the area of his trousers around his groin for signs of his organ and sack. Once or twice I thought I detected a curious movement in that area, but it may have been my imagination. I could be certain of nothing. In truth, I had little idea of the size. “Yes, Please.” I responded, keeping my head down. If it was anyone else, I would have punched them in the face, but him; he could change my life. He could fire me and make sure no one else would hire me. Also, he was twenty or so times stronger than me. He could knock me out in a few seconds. I was at his mercy.The door opened again and he came back in with two doggie dishes. Lovely. They had my name written in script on the side. Wonderful. I was going to be treated like a dog. He placed both. “No! No! No! Jay exclaimed irritated. We are not going to battle with the bikinis this year. Pack two, finish up in here, and meet me in the car. Now!” screeched Jay.“ I hate it when he’s right,” she whispers to herself and then packs 6 bikinis. She exits her apt with a black rolling suitcase in tow behind her, a white mesh beach bag over her shoulder, an oversized bright white cotton floppy hat on her head, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the sun, a knitted black halter top loosely cups. In fact, I first heard of her when Olivia—one of the few original band-members I still keep in touch with—e-mailed me a link to a Rock Music website I’d never have discovered otherwise in which Polly Tarantella lambasted Crystal Passion with a vehemence that was bizarre given the many years since the band had broken up. In those days she was known as Sally Tyrant and was a famous or, perhaps, notorious Rock Music critic, celebrated for her acerbic and scathing prose and for her withering.