’ If my husband wouldn’t be home for hours there was no use in laying here all tied up was there? While I waited for him I might as well watch tv ...nd cover myself with the blankets, I could always re-tie myself whenever I heard him come home. ‘It’s fine.’ Kenneth said smiling. ‘To each their own. I get it.’ He closed the door, but a moment later he opened it again. ‘I feel bad though.’ He said. ‘You’re here all horny, waiting for someone to use you and Marc won’t be here before midnight. Music, it seemed, became the backdrop of our neighborhood. At any given time, Mozart or Ravel could be heard wafting over the backyard fences.When my wife was at home dying of cancer, she always wanted her window opened just a crack just so she could hear the melodies (no matter how badly they were sometimes performed.)She died in April at the age of twenty-nine. Camelia brought a pan of chicken spaghetti over after the funeral. She sat on the sofa and cried - partly for my loss and partly for. More

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