Indeed, these people are about as ordinary a slice of traditional Americana as one can hope to stumble across in 2015: a small, All-American community of All-American neighbors getting together to share All-American food, sing the praises of Jesus, and share the weight of the various challenges that face today’s modern American registered sex offender.
“I don’t mind telling you,” he says, “I am no longer here to debate, or to reason, or to converse, or to hope you may be reached by logic or evidence. I AM HERE TO F–K YOUR SHIT UP.”
Staring at the stenciled moon and stars mural on the wall I sense the weight of Hess on the bed as she lies down beside me before I feel a strange leg drape over mine and fingertips lightly caress my back. And I find that I am asking myself the same question that I imagine every client of a professional cuddler asks themselves when they first find themselves in bed being lovingly embraced by a fully dressed stranger: How the hell did I get myself into this?