His oily hands moved to work them, all over her breasts, her belly, down to the waistband of her shorts, lingering there, before returning to the elon...ated grapes of her nipples. She felt her eyes glazing, hooded. He glanced up. An elderly man walking a dog detoured slightly to come closer to them, his eyes wide. Sandy oiled his hands once more, worked on her breasts again, teasing her teats: -There’s a guy watching us darling, to your right… She moved her head, saw the harmlessness of the old. Nothing. Zilch. Nothing I could salvage, even with the hardest highest-contrast paper I could find. It was hopeless. I felt like shit. Like failure. Dad wouldn't have approved, I'm sure of that.Just a fuckup. That's what it felt like and that's what it was. So, no, I didn't cry, but I felt like it. I solved it the way I'd solved so many similar things over the years: I cut it out of my life. I told myself it was because I was bored with it, that I hated darkroom work, that I was only doing it. More

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