" Gillian sidled up to him.She was wearing a short black cocktail dress and his hand went straight toher arse."Any chance of quick one now then? You...can put if my tab?" Terry grinnedand squeezed her buttock."Yes of course you can have a shag." Gillian removed his hand from herbuttock.She crushed out her cigarette and walked to the door."Cecelia! Come and take care of this for me please," she called out thedoor.They both heard the click-clack of Cecelia Flick's heels on the stairs."Enjoy. He’s the one who was punished by the gods and had to push a rock up a hill.” She put her book down. “In fact, I read a book by Albert Camus called The Myth of Sisyphus. We read it in a course on Existentialism last year. I’m a philosophy major at Brown,” she added. “Do you have the poems you’ve written here at the farm?”“I do but I’m not sure they’re ready to be read, but, I think I’d let you read them sometime.”I looked over at John, listening to our conversation. He looked at Sherry and then. More

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