“What?” She asked, shocked.“You heard me. I want to rub your feet.” I said.“Why? You got a foot fetish or something?” She asked.“Hardly....�� I scoffed. “Rubbing your feet will relax you and burn off my extra energy.” I stated. “If you don’t want to, fine. I’ll take a swim instead, and we can talk while I do that.”“No, no. The foot rubs are fine.” She said, pulling off her socks.To be honest, I didn’t want to rub HER feet. I wanted to rub Annie’s feet. I had been rubbing Annie’s feet since we got. I'll see you in a minute." I looked at Jessica as hersentence trailed off, but my mind was already distant. I was overwhelmedand afraid. Looking back on it all, this is perhaps when I should havefinally put a stop to it all and called Vanessa out on her charade. Thisis where I should have faced up to her. This is where I could havestopped this in its tracks. This is where I should have been man enough;you do not know what that means until you have the man pulled out of you.I guess I was afraid,. It was time. Walking back into the house many complimented me on my makeup. Most were shocked when I told them I wasn’t wearing any. Then the sound of my voice reminded them of someone they used to know. I’m also sure I smelled pretty ripe. The costume they thought I was wearing was seen clearly now as the clothes of a dead man! Within moments the house grew quiet. The party ended as everyone stood back not believing their eyes. How could a dead man be standing in front of them? The host and. Everybody had at leasttalked about Mrs. Draffen at least once: Did it hurt? What about herkids? What about her husband? I had asked those questions. Essentially,Kate Draffen wasn't special enough to warrant everyone talking abouther, unless we all are. She was just a simple stay-at-home mum; 41,three kids, married, liked arts and crafts. But it wasn't her we wereall talking about- it was what happened to her. Her photo was on thefront pages of all the newspapers. For a while she was the most.
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