A month later, her still bruised, but healing face is sitting across the table from me, next to her fourteen-year younger sister, my nineteen-year-old...wife, asking for forgiveness.“To what end. What does this forgiveness get you? I can forgive you. But, I will never forget. What would you want of me? Of us?” Those were my questions.“Connie, what could you possibly gain by doing this. Even if we forgive you. What is it you want?”“Redemption. I want to repair, return, replace what I took. Trust,. “That’s much…” She took a breath as my tongue darted further in. “Oh, she is doing much better. You, what’s your name. Jesus, pay attention!”“Uh… it’s Rachel…” the blonde pixie said before correcting herself. “It’s Rachel, mistress!” “On… on... the other side,” Sandra said, her cadence breaking from my effort.She bounced awkwardly, her diminutive breasts moving just a little as she joined me on the other side of Sandra, our tongues working at different openings on our African goddess. I was. More

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