He legitimately was ashamed of himself. My displeasure would be a consequence to face. He’d take it as absolution.“So what the fuck then?” Craps...bounced Phoebe, “You’ve got a harem of sluts?”“Sort of, I guess,” Matthew muttered, “Phoebe are you OK?”“I’m worried you’re mad at me,” She said with an emotional range that Duchovny would’ve dwarfed as Fox Mulder.“I’m not mad.” Matthew said and all that unreadable worry on her face was circumvented with an unreadable serenity, “Do you like. She’d joined a lesbian commune in America.”“Look, Jason,” I said, “if it’s going to be awkward for you, just tell us where the tattoo parlour is and we’ll go ourselves.”“Hell, no,” he grinned, “we’re still good friends.”Gayle disappeared to dress and came back in a tiny white sundress. “I thought I’d better wear panties.” She lifted her dress, revealing a minuscule white thong that barely covered her slit.Jason and I stepped into shorts and we all walked to his garage. He had a World War Two. More

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