1950s Erotica

Here in my mind’s private locker, I finally unlock it. The door creaks open. No more hiding. This is my deepest secret from 1950s east Montreal. I’m Lucille Fontaine, once just Mrs. Albert Latreille. Trapped in a tiny ground-floor 5½, scrubbing, cooking, popping pills to avoid more kids. Albert? Quick grunts on hockey nights. Five…