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”The teenager approached her desk. His eyes were red rimmed, but they didn’t lose their focus on her face. “Ms. Choi. I know you may feel confused about yesterday.” His gaze wandered down her body, the way countless men had in the past. She shivered in repressed anger. She was used to men giving her that look, and it could be flattering, but then came the “oh hey baby you’re a lesbo? Maybe you just haven’t found the right man.Yesterday, her body had decided it found the right man. And she hated herself for just giving in like a horny teenage boy.“I’m not confused. Now - “ She drew in a breath. “I know I did something wrong. And you have every right to - call the police.” She remembered his mother was a prosecutor. Oh god. Her life, her career flashed before her eyes. “But I still expect you to respect me and my boundaries, and right now I’d like you to leave.”Ryan’s hand fell on hers. Her lips opened again, her hand prepared to pull away. She looked down at his hand, the skin paler. ”“Thanks.” For some reason, the fact that he didn’t have to explain was a great relief. He didn’t understand the great reluctance associated with telling the story of what had happened in the woods. It couldn’t be the rape; that wasn’t enough to explain why his mind shied away from the rest of the experience.John pulled himself together and paid for his purchases. He put on the watch at the counter as the proprietor disappeared. He walked over to the bin where he had put his pack. He was adding the rest of his purchases to it when the old man returned carrying a walking stick.“This is yours,” Jed said. He held out the walking stick.John turned around wondering about what the old man was saying. He hadn’t forgotten anything. He noted the walking stick and asked, “Pardon me?”“I said, this is yours.”John took the walking stick from Jed. It was a work of art. It was five feet in length. The wood was a polished jet black with a brass end-cap on the bottom. The top held a brass frame with a.
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