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Shaking my head to get my hair off my face, I automatically reached for the elastic band I kept on my wrist when at home. I loved the feel of my long, blonde hair hanging loose. But it came to my bra strap and often got in the way. I once singed the ends leaning over the gas stove, so from that point forward I was always ready to pull it back into a ponytail. After looping the band around my hair, I reached behind me and unhooked my bra, letting it slide down my arms. If Jedi had been panting like a dog before, he now drooled like one as I tossed the bra aside.I hated saying it, but I knew what was expected of me. "Go on, touch them."The teenager was on me in a flash, using both hands, mauling my tender breasts. It hurt -- a lot. I tried pushing his hands away but it was like fighting an octopus. I don't know where I got the strength, but I lunged at him, knocking him onto his back with me straddling his midsection and pinning his arms. My breasts hung over his face."That hurt!" I. Hell, I'd have been amazed if you hadn't wanted to kill the unsavory slut. The woman was a head game surrounded by a mind fuck wrapped up with a psycho-bitch-bow on top! Are you going to tell me you failed your self-image of yourself? You didn't live up to your own standards? You failed you?"If that's what it is Harry, then quit torturing yourself for something you'd forgive any one of us for without thinking. You're human. You momentarily didn't live up to your potential. Ruffle your hair, tell yourself to do better next time and let yourself off the hook. No one here thinks any less of you and I know one of us," she smiled at him, "thinks even more highly of you than she did before."She slid down beside him and held him, kissing him gently all over his face."Harry, I don't mean, in any way, to belittle how you feel. Tonight was rough, harder on you than on any of us, by orders of magnitude. Just don't make it any harder on yourself than it already is." Kelly, thank you, not just.
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‘What on earth was it?’ she asked. I decided to try the power of FUCK once more. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said casually. ‘OK,’ she smiled contentedly, and cheerfully headed to the kitchen to cook and clean. Part of me missed the old forthright and obstinate Wendy, but I had to admit the new version had advantages. And there seemed no doubt which Wendy was happier, a point I put to the test over dinner. I reminded her of our conversation on Friday night, the one about how her outlook had changed. ‘How would you feel,’ I asked, ‘if someone could give you a pill that would make you go back to the way you were before?’ ‘Ugh,’ she shuddered. ‘I’d throw it in his face. I was so bloody miserable then.’ The following day, Monday, was Albert’s funeral. I expected it to be a grim affair and so it was. It revealed the sad but perhaps unsurprising truth that Albert had indeed been a man without friends. Mr Lucas the solicitor put in an appearance but apart from him I was the only mourner.

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