If only my red strips of bacon were the red lace of her panties. If only instead of tearing this meat apart, I could shred the flimsy fabric with my t...eth to reach her puckered bud, to taste juices surely warmer and far tastier than Orange Tropicana. From across the room, she smiled at me. I swallowed, turned away, my eyes watering from the sight of her shapely hips swaying to the light Blues music Café Cascade, Taj, Goa was playing today. As she neared with her plateful of sausage and. “What’s your mother’s phone number, I need her to come pick you up?”“She’s working right now, we- we can’t afford to have her miss another shift.”“Your father?”“Out of town, he’s ... hardly home.”“Your brother?’“He’s ... never home either.”“Jesus Mary, Bailey, you must be so lonely.”I looked down. His tone softened, “Alright, get your things. I’m taking you home.”I followed him with a strange twist of giddiness and fear in my stomach. I didn’t know where things were going, it felt like. More

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