Amy Tale/s – Sunday Blame/s
I am just an instrument they played their song on for pleasure in an otherwise boring sex life. Tony will understand cruelty, and her name is Amy. Tony and Sophia return from the kitchen and she hands me a wine cooler, and I drink some [see Amy Tale/s – Saturday Game/s, for details]. There is a silence, and they both look nervous. They have deliberated, and they most likely have convinced each other that they need to try something. I am expecting either words or a touch to light the match. It will be a touch, as Sophia puts her hand on my bare thigh and says, I am looking forward to shopping tomorrow. It is their fear of each other (not me), that prevents more than this touch, but I know the reason behind …