“What do you want to know?” “What happened? Was it in the bathroom, or in your seat?” “Seat,” she said, quietly, as though there were maids outside the door listening. Which wasn’t out of the question. I picked up my remote and turned on the stereo. “From the beginning,” I said. She squirmed a little, twisting some of the ruffles on her uniform. “I got to remembering, and thinking about how I’d be back soon. And I wanted to.” “Were you sitting next to someone?” “Of course.” “You used a blanket, didn’t you?” “Of course!” I’d have to cut that from the story; that took all the fun out of it. “Okay, tell me exactly what you did. What were you wearing?” “You know, just a cute shirt. It had a sunflower on it.” “Below the waist,” I said, silently praying for patience. “Oh.” She squirmed some more. “You just told me you masturbated thinking about me, now you don’t want to say what you were wearing?” “Capris,” she said suddenly. “I was wearing capris.” “Better if it was a. What made things worse was the fact that none of them bore the strains of a 3 hour car journey that was written all over Peter’s face. Peter had had enough of lazing around the car and decided to wander himself. He dare not look at the towering snobs walking past him, in case their voiced their impression of a teenage boy dressed in merely a T-Shirt and jeans. The ground was exquisitely kept, the lawns a lush green and the paths a perfect white gravel. Not a blade or stone was out of place. The various wooden stands and tables outside the restaurant were illuminated in the warm morning glow. At least his eyes were alive with the sight, unlike his dead brain with the bore. As he made his way to the white fencing by the track, his mother grabbed him by the shoulder:“Come on Peter! This gentleman has offered to take a photo for our albums back home!” In less than 5 seconds, the family went from giggles to pose to laughing at the end, and Peter barely had time to react. The man behind.
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