Chapter 2

No one got an orgasm that morning. And everyone was angry. But Annette was the angriest of all.

She had always lived under a strict moral imperative, and she seethed at the fact that the old man had, for the second time, used her mouth as a painkiller. Yes, she’d let him do it -- but why did he have the nerve to accept her “help”? In truth, the beauty was more outraged by her body’s response to the old man’s cock than by the old man himself, but she tried not to think about that. Fluttering over an abyss, she preferred to assure herself there was no abyss at all.

... The ancient Greeks believed a woman was a failed man. Sometimes Annette was more of a man than her husband. She did what Yuri should have done long ago. Furious, the yogini marched into Omar’s room.

“You still haven’t packed? Are you waiting for me to pack your things for you?” Annette snapped, her voice tight. It felt shameful to come at an old man in poor health like this. But he deserved it.

“Daughter, you can see I’m not well -- where am I supposed to go?” the old man said.

“I don’t know -- to a hospital. I’m not a nurse!” Annette said, growing more and more ashamed of her own rudeness toward a sick, pitiful, helpless man. But she couldn’t stop herself now. He had no place in her home.

“You’re not a nurse, but you’re kind! You’ll throw me out in this condition? Maybe you’ll help me first? ... Doing good has to be done, too! Otherwise, how are old men like me supposed to live...”