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He sipped more beer, his eyes on my face before, with his usual impeccable British diction, he said, “I haven’t seen you with that young chap for a while.”“He’s gone, Mister Jennings. I found out he was shag-- uhm, I mean sleeping with someone else.”Mister Jennings was appalled. “Good God!” he exploded, eyes wide with the horror of it.I half expected him to call my erstwhile boyfriend a cad or a bounder.“What a bloody fool!” he spluttered instead.I shrugged to show it was of no real. We left the house on pretext of riding the horses. We took two stallions: I rode Whisper, the dream horse and Smita rode another brown horse called Lightfoot. We rode till the farthest end of the meadow where there stood a barn-house. It was far away not to be seen from the house. We went inside the barn house and closed it from inside. We tied the horses to the stumps. Lightfoot was kept a bit far away so that he wouldn’t interfere with our stunt. Now, Whisper needed to be aroused in the right. “Ticket? Oh, this is way beyond a ticket. You’re going to jail, little Missy. Fifty miles per hour over the speed limit. Fifty! That’s enough to haul you in by itself. And not only were you speeding, you were going over 100. There are special penalties for that. With your record, you’ll be locked up in the county jail for thirty days, at least. And to top it all off: Unauthorized Use of a Motor Vehicle. That’s grand theft auto, Missy, and the penalty for that- is- state- prison!” His finger. ‘No baby, you were better than him. He was just too blind to see how lucky he really was.’ He carefully pulled her leg out, so that the scarred thigh was exposed once more. He grit his teeth, angry that anyone would hurt her that way, and felt hot tears welling up as he ran his fingers over them. He leaned down and kissed them tenderly. He then got off the bed, kneeling next to her on floor. When he finally looked up, she was surprised by his tear streaked cheeks and a look of complete.
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