I told you I'd help you. I'm offering you a job as my maid. There's not much else you can do now, you know. Do you want it?" "No, 'Lita! I ain't n... maid, I'm a chemist! I want you to put me back. I insist! Give me back my identity! My manhood!" His frustration mounted, and tears flowed down his cheeks. She sighed. "You think you're still a chemist? You learn slowly, dear. Tell me, what's bromine? Or the formula for table salt?" He knew he had taught Graciela those very facts, but. He moved my soggy thong back in its place, removed his hand, and wiped it on the linen. He took a sip of his coffee, eyed the bill, dropped some cash on the table, looked at me, and smiled. “Now, we can go.”*** We both drove to the restaurant, which was ideal, because I needed time to concoct a plan. I had no intentions of dealing with Jon’s afro-down-below on that night. As much as I loved giving head, I detested navigating through a thicket to get to the treasure. Believe me, I tried to get. More

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