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Show 105, Jeffries, Islamorada [Section 2] Ten minutes later he pedaled in the high water off the deep end. He was looking out into the night in the high lion grasses of Big Pine. She came up behind him and wrapped her legs around him. "Want a back rub?" "Jesus Marjoram I don't care." He considered that maybe there was a new style coming into his life. This recent moral paralysis. And Dory--like Bottom, with a donkey-head affixed, between the bales of hay, a great desire to a bottle of hay, and the girl enamor'd of an ass-so that when she put her young hands to the front of him he had no comment. "Now how does that feel Mr. Clayton." "Marjoram I. . ." Her little mouth at his ear. "You won't tittle-tattle?" she whispered. "Around our school the girls call it a hand job." "Yes I know but--" "Mr. Clayton why don't you just relax--" Then from up in the green shadows of the house he thought he felt their wide and many peacock-feather eyes on him. "Marjoram, this has never worked for me--" "Hah," she laughed, and he turned again from her, spraying his cloudy milt into the pool. Then from their wooden tower, their turret, he heard a sort of kestrel-tittering. |