I glanced around and spotted Marcus right at the back lifting weights. I walked on over and stood in between his spread-out legs admiring his manhood....I felt myself beginning to get wet. Marcus sensed someone was there, so he placed the weight back on the rack and sat up, and looked shocked to see me."Brittany? What are you doing here?" he asked curiously. His eyes lingered down over my breasts. "Nice top."I smiled. "Thank you," I replied. "I ask again, what are you doing here?" "Came to work. To focus. Let my subconscious work on things.I looked off into the middle distance, not really seeing the cemetery. But remembering Hank’s funeral. That sunny day, all that law enforcement presence.I smiled to myself as a half-recalled image of Emile Chanson swam to the surface. How he stood at solemn attention at the graveside. Black Homburg held over his heart for a moment. Then he about-faced and slow-marched at a stately 88 steps per minute over to Bulldog’s Cadillac. Daddy murmured,. More

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