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“I don’t know anymore. I guess it was never really anything.” Dylan continues looking at me like he’s thinking. Then he leans in closer to me. “Not to overstep my boundaries, but lemme guess…you thought he cared and understood you, showed you a good times, and then used you?” the way Dylan put it, no matter how much it hurt, it basically summed it up. I didn’t answer, assuming Dylan must know already. “I know about Jay a little more than you might think. He’s not what anybody believes he is,” he finishes. I shrug my shoulders and lean my head on my right hand, looking at the cafeteria walls. “I guess I’ve sort of known all along. I just wanted something to believe in for once,” I say, looking into some distance I didn’t even know that I was looking at. “I know exactly how that feels, more than you know. You’ve got no support, no trust, no one to turn to, you just want something you can believe in, put all your trust and heart into. Believe me, it’s as vital as the heart. Some people. Fairwood." He buttoned the bodice for her, giving her breasts a little squeeze. She shuddered, that he should be so free with her body, but, in spite of herself, she enjoyed it. He found her attractive. He could not keep his hands off her. Never had James touched her in such an intimate way. At dinner, sitting at the table, just she and Henry, Megan could feel the rod, pressing up within her, stretching her, as the pressure of the chair forced the appliance upward. She said nothing, ate in silence. "You must be wondering where James is, Megan." She sat, expressionless. "He has gone up to London, with his cousin, Hank. God knows what they are doing, but I hope he enjoys it." She did not speak, and the rest of the meal passed in silence, but for the scrape of cutlery on the plates. When the dessert dishes had been cleared, fruit compote, Henry poured a generous glass of sherry and handed it to Megan. "Drink," he said. It was an order, not an offer. Angrily, she drank.
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