“I may have an idea.” I said, my voice raspy with pain.“What?”“You’re going to have to feed your hand into the rubber, make a slope to you... heel.”We were both on our stomachs at that point, a position ill suited for any part of what we were to attempt.“We’ll have to get turned over.” Kara said.“You will.” I replied. “It’ll probably work better if I’m on my stomach.”“Okay.” Kara warned me. “Here goes.”Moving carefully, my wife turned onto her back, her foot twisting around in my rectum. Thickman. Shit. ‘Hi, welcome to Studio 9!’ I spout cheerily. Maybe if I pretend I don’t know who he is, he won’t remember me. Wait, do I want him to remember me? ‘Hello, Charlotte. I’ll take an extra-dry cappuccino, please.’ Shit. Shitshitshit. ‘I’ll have that right out to you, sir. Just have a seat wherever you please.’ I hurried back behind the counter to prepare his drink, hoping that it would take long enough for me to collect myself. I bring him his drink and as I bend over to place. More

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