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He would pat my ass when he passed by, or I would flash him my tits when he was talking on the phone. I sucked his cock every night before I left for the day. Of course, we did these things when we were alone. After all, we had boundaries, but what good are they if they’re not pushed? The first time we pushed the boundaries was at Mrs. Higgins’ funeral. Good ol’ Mrs. Higgins lived to the ripe old age of 95. Although she was widowed, she had a very large family. Kyle said her service brought “a very large turnout.” On the day of the funeral mass and burial, Kyle closed the casket, turned to me and said, “Amy, you’re coming with us to the service and cemetery.” The pallbearers took the casket to the hearse that Kyle would be driving. I would ride in the passenger’s seat. It was the first time I ever rode with him. Our first stop was to the church for the funeral mass. Once the service began, I sat in the back pew with Kyle while the pallbearers sat up front. Kyle and I held hands as. She was standing in the middle of the staircase, looking back over her shoulder with a puzzled expression on her face. She quickly averted her gaze as if caught doing something wrong, and set her foot on the next step. Maybe it was something to do with the fact that she wasn’t watching her step, but whatever it was, she tripped. Her heel scraped against the stone and her ankle wobbled. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she lurched forward. She tumbled down the stairs, her face pale, her arms flailing helplessly. It all happened so suddenly that he didn’t have time to make a sound. His arms were outstretched, as if he could catch her. She was lying face down at the bottom of the stairs, breathing in short gasps, trembling all over. He ran down the stairs, muttering a prayer. By the time he got to her, she was trying to push herself up. Her palms pressed against the floor, her elbows sticking out. The contents of her handbag were strewn across the tiles, and her left shoe was.
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