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But now I had to tread carefully with respect to Ginny. How much about us did Mary already know? Did she know about my son's exploits? Did she care?Mary seems to be completely sapphic, yet that dildo of hers conjures up only thoughts of men from porn movies!It is clearly impossible for Mary to participate in anything where students may be involved, yet my youngest is only a freshman. My dilemma is that if I suddenly no longer dallied with my kids, they will quickly catch on that I have found an outside lover, and they would certainly discover Mary's role!Can I do without real "schlong" for over three years?Do I tell Mary about my dilemma?If I love her, doesn't she deserve it?I decided to sleep on this.I dreamt of Mary and of that enormous toy that sent us to places we'd never been - I'd never been - before. It was an awfully great substitute for penis, but it wasn't 98.6 degrees of man tube.Also, it didn't have the same climax, that wonderfully filling climax as his seed, his. She followed me out of Tashun's office. There was a large sigh of relief behind us before the door closed."What are we going to do, Mr. Marcus? That's so formal. What's your first name?" Harvey. And you are going to do some very important filing." Filing?" I got my first experience of Reese's pout. "I'd rather hang with you, Harvey. I bet you could teach me things." Now it was Reese's hand on my arm, stroking instead of grabbing.Tashun's words echoed in my head as we entered the elevator for a quick ride down to the fifth floor. The sign read RECORDS. I led Reese into a storage room filled with file cabinets and tables stacked with papers."All of these need filing. Each document has an account number. The file cabinets are all labelled. You'd be doing us a big favor if you'd care for these."Reese's absorbing smile was gone. She twisted a ringlet of long brown hair around one finger. "After I care for these, maybe we can spend some time together?"I internally rejected that possibility.
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As they crested the ridge the Kara-Khitans realized that the real battle still lay ahead of them. But by now their horses were all haggard, their bow strings broken, their hearts choked with grime and pain and the first hint of defeat. Fatima had seen the Mongols waver and look back for their leaders. In desperation the horse warriors hurled themselves at the massed enemy, trying to break their ranks by stupid fury alone. That charge never reached the enemy’s line. Instead, a storm of arrows that blackened the sun and sang as they sped through the sky broke their charge. The whole first rank of horses and riders went down, quilled like porcupines. In the spray of red ruin that leaped up the next line behind them stumbled and fell as well, their horses trampling the dead and wounded alike. All this Fatima had seen in bewilderment. She had seen, too, the shameful retreat of certain Mongol warlords, the savage last-stand of others. On horseback, on foot, besieged, they all fell, one by.

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