Chapter 7
It had taken a lot of hot water before Harry’s hands worked well enough for him to strip off his clothes. He’d squeezed them out as well as he could while sitting chest deep in the tub before dumping the sodden mass onto the bathmat.
When the shivers finally stopped, and the water was brown with the mud that had sluiced off him, he’d dried himself off and crawled into Becky’s bed.
He could hear the laughter downstairs. He tried to pick out Becky’s laugh, but couldn’t. Another sign, as if he needed one, that something was wrong. If you couldn’t recognize the laugh of the woman you were having s*x with…that had to mean…something. Though he’d be damned if he knew what.
What a group of friends Becky had. A dozen people gathered together from different walks of life by a common in
