The windows were high up, she could barely see through them on tip toe, they were dirty too, a decade of ooze seemed to have accumulated on each pane and many were obscured by boxes piled up against them inside. But even this wild fancy was more desirable than entering the odorous hell.Jessica began making her way along the long cluttered alley beside the market building, her shackled feet making each step in the obstacle course take and age. As she sank deeper and deeper within she became more and more wary of concealed snakes. Quite a few minutes later she found herself approaching the far end of the alley safely and approaching the small path that ran behind the back of the market. Then she heard a clanging sound.Instinctively Jessica headed for cover. Fortunately there was plenty available. She hid in a small light wooden crate, a fish crate to her disgust and the reek she was now having to endure, but the gaps between the boards of the box afforded her a good view of the path. Carbone was still laughing and telling jokes, apparently yet unaware of the growing familiarity with which he was pressing up against my daughter. Meanwhile, Melissa had placed her hand on mine, gently caressing it, still holding it on her upper thigh. It was perhaps the high altitude, the mountain air, or just the romantic setting, but I was starting to feel more than a bit intoxicated. The champagne continued flowing, and the girls were encouraging their fathers to make one toast after another: to Italy, to the Supreme Court, to Babe Ruth, to virtually every topic or joke that we had mentioned. Alex and I were doing most of the drinking by now. I was aware of moments of time slipping quickly past, with others seeming to freeze in place.I looked over at Andrea, who was now crossing champagne glasses with Carbone, each drinking from the other's glass. In doing so, still under Carbone's right arm, she was now pressing her left breast into his chest. I turned to Melissa, who smiled.
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