.               ☉         )|(             ☉              .
Taking the bottle Bob swigged deeply,
eyeing the freckled neophyte. “Get up there,”
Bob commanded and when the girl went
to take the seat Bob caught her by the neck
bending her over and lifting the flimsy
petticoat away from her whip-seared ***.
“It occurs to me that you’re a ******, Nancy.
Would I be right?”
“You know I am, sir.” said the girl,
her face pressed to the seat.
“I’ve never been with no man since
Miss Dawn changed me.”
“It’d be a shame for you to die
that way wouldn’t it?”
“You be talkin’ about me deflowering, sir?”
“I be.”
    .             ☉          )|(            ☉             .