The deep depression that he felt was his only protection from his memories of her. The car had swerved to avoid a young girl, who was running across the road to her mother without looking, and it had caught Caron a glancing blow. It wouldn’t have been too serious, but when Caron fell she’d struck her head on the raised ironwork of a manhole cover. And that was that. Stan had been visited at work. When the policewoman said, ‘Please sit down, Mr. Hinch, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,’ he already knew that Caron was dead. It was the compassion in her eyes, the sadness in the set of her face, the whole attitude of the young policewoman’s body that told him. He didn’t break down immediately. Somehow he made the arrangements, got to the funeral, he was even able to get to the part where he was supposed to speak… and couldn’t. He couldn’t see anyone through the tears, he couldn’t speak through the boulder lodged in his throat. Someone – he still didn’t know who, probably Bob, his boss –. She shuddered, her hands stroking her body. “We’ll have a fun time.” She unhooked her bra. Her breasts were soft and round, not as firm as a younger woman, but still delicious. Her blonde hair swayed as she unfastened her skirt.Her daughter worked off her panties, exposing a landing strip of blonde down to her tight slit. I liked that. She would make an interesting subject to draw. I gripped my pencil, my dick growing hard and throbbing. Orihime squirmed beside me while Ruri stared intently at her book.She hadn’t turned the page once since the women started stripping.The mother stepped out of her shorts and panties, now down to just her flip-flops. She kicked those off and grabbed the quilted blanket. She unfurled it, the various segments of purple, white, and pink seemingly stitched together at random. She sank down on it as her daughter slipped her arms out of her shoulder straps. She spun her bra around, her small breasts coming into view, the clasp now located beneath her.
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