Joan turned on the barstool and the slit in the front teasingly opened. She smiled at the gentleman and raised the martini glass in a salute. He had a...partial view of her mound. She patted the barstool next to her and he got up and moved to it. He introduced himself, Dave, and they shook hands with their fingers lingering in each others palms. They started talking, Joan sitting facing him with a hint of her mound showing. When she bent down to get her purse, her bare breasts were on display. It. The fact that all the children were unnaturally pale wasn’t so peculiar, considering that Mr. Waite had warned her that nearly all the students at the school were in some way or another related and chalky pale skin was a genetic trait (“Generation after generation of these kids having been coming here for years, you’ll get used to it,” Mr. Waite had remarked, peering through thick-lensed glasses), but nothing could have prepared her for their eyes, all of their identical eyes. Like pools of the. More

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