’ I took a step back from the girl, forcing distance between us just in time for third party to enter into the room. The boy was young and beautiful...��at least, by someone’s standards. It was the look that lingered in his eyes that I had noticed in few others. Vladimir Nabokov called them ‘nymphet’s.’ I called them degenerates. This one was quiet and shy, and he knew better than to meet my eyes as he slipped across the floor towards the girl. I watched him closely as he took her hands in his own. “I need to pee.”I was left alone on the bed. I could here the two women talking softly through the half opened door.Denise returned, wrapped in a bathrobe. She dressed with her back to me, leaving the bathrobe on until the last moment. The wine had dried on her dress and was wrinkled from being left overnight in a heap.Carol emerged from the steam filled bathroom, naked and dripping from her shower.“Denise is just leaving.” It was a dismissal if I ever heard one. She was gone a few minutes. More

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