Gladys had been dead almost six years. The grandkids came once or twice a month, with their mother and sometimes father, but John still missed the com...any--and the intimacy. He craned his neck to watch Molly mow around one of the trees in the front yard. The back never needed it, since there wasn’t really any lawn, just patio and garden. There she was, strutting around in he curvaceous nubile teenage glory, her chestnut curls secured with a pin. He watched her bum sashay away. God ... a man. Sometimes she would allow Patricia to nuzzle her brown eye because she loved the touch a tongue back there and when it was a pretty girl it was best of all.Down in the damp basement, Rose liked to torment the female prisoners more than the silly males who were no fun with their stoic blank looks. The women were much more fun when she was able to get them to sob or cry asking for mercy. Of course, she was the wrong person to be handing out mercy in their dire circumstances. Often, she would. More

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