I turned to look at her. “How did you meet your boyfriend, Mrs. Beckwith?” I asked. “Please, call me Beckey,” she responded. “Oh right,...sorry, Beckey.” “I met him at the yacht club. I go there for lunch quite often. I was sitting alone and he asked if he could join me, since he was alone also. I agreed. He was quite attractive and I didn’t think I would meet any weirdo’ s at the yacht club. I found him to be very charming and we began having lunch together every few days.” . At eight exactly, I heard the front door, the tread of steps coming down the hall.I looked at the door and the door opened, Pietro standing in the doorway looking at me, a mixture of pain and desire on his face. He didn’t speak a word and I couldn’t. I might have tried closing my legs, but it was impossible, so we looked at each other over my ravaged, well used, body. He didn’t say a word. What could he say? What could I say, even if I could speak? Everything was self-evident. No explanations. More

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