I was tired of the war."Can you handle a plow?" she asked as her supper arrived and I ordered a beer."Of course," I lied, "born with the handles in my...paws. Can recognize every mule in town from the rear end," I held up my big, callused hands and she smiled at me. Plowing was one of the many chores I tried to avoid back in Fredericktown. Slaves did most of it on the bigger farms."Only pays three shillings a week and keep," she said, "but there's plenty of work. My hired hands ran off, avoiding. Girls didn't shave their pussies for no reason. I could say it was for wearing a bathing suit, of course, but it was mid March. We wouldn't be going to the beach until June. at least, and not even to the lake until Memorial day. Still, she probably knew that I wasn't a virgin. She'd talked to me about safe sex often enough.“Did Mom ever talk to you about safe sex?” I asked Jeff.“Of course. And she had Uncle Frank talk to me too.”“Uncle Frank?” I said. I couldn't help laughing. I couldn't. More

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