He wasn't bad looking either but had a serious look about him. I introduced myself and we shook hands, mostly for show in case a neighbor was watching... then he followed my through the side door and into the garage. I closed and locked the door and then moved to the middle of the garage next to my car. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I stepped closer to him and moved my hand to his thigh. I had seen the slight bulge in his pants when he walked up and now I moved fingers up his. Now. He’s speaking good English, he’s learning to read for God’s sake, the whole thing is hard to believe. Harder than hard.I absolutely refuse to consign him to some anonymous mediocrity. One way or another I’ll help him find a place here. A real place. I’ll be damned if I let him wind up in the scrapheap of commonality, not if I can help it. And for that I need time, as much as I can manage.Still, I need to phone Irving back. I haven’t spoken to him since that one call, he’s probably given up. More

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