But she still looked like a fertility goddess, even as she was playing the part of traditional matron and Keeper of the Christmas cookies, and soundin... like the woman I'd grown up with. It was all kinds of disorienting. Not to mention titillating. Being reminded of my mother as my mother a moment after I'd been fantasizing about giving her a rimjob and titty-fucking her and much else besides was like a splash of cold water across my face. Finally, a hint of the guilt I should have been feeling. The Catcher would have preferred a cup of steaming tea, but her purpose had been served. She downed the icy liquid, permitted the little girl to stroke the sleeve of her sable riding coat, and returned to the front room where the gunman, having removed his wide-brimmed hat and bulky coat, was down on one knee, nursing the fire in the small Franklin stove into something more productive. This is most probably why he did it. The Catcher aimed the thought at the back of Kirnan’s head. Slowly, he. More

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