Chapter 44

• A Memory
• “What did you expect it to be like, then?” Jake queried, his typically composed, genteel features now scrunching up slightly in amusement, not dissimilar to how Roxanne finds herself speaking to children. If it weren’t for the way his eyes raked over her-sluggish, like pulling a garden rake through mud, catching on the slight swell of her breasts, the way her sweetheart neckline exposed her lack of cleavage, her too-pronounced collarbones-she might’ve felt a bit more self-conscious about what he thought of her.
• She didn't dwell too much on whether or not it would have felt better to be considered a child, or a piece of ass.