George felt awkward. He wanted her to handle her grief the way he always had, and if she didn't, well, he didn't know what to do. Hug her? Kiss her? T...ll her everything is going to be all right? That wasn't possible.Amy stared at the beer. Her cute young face was stained with tears, and she looked up at him, then back at the bottle. Her expression was enough to break his heart, and he had to remind himself what a nasty little bitch she really was in order to retain his composure.Finally, and to. " "Yes, sir. My tits are yours, my cunt is yours, my arse is yours. My tits-" I listened outside the door for a moment to check that she was repeatingherself, she was, so I trundled off to the boot of the car. Her bag was quiteheavy, I returned quietly to the door of the front room, where I could stillhear her talking away. "-are yours, my cunt is yours, my-" "Okay, okay, shut the hell up, bitch." "Yes, sir," she said, dropping her head to the floor. I was going to open the bag and demean. More

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