He took a chance and called the number.“Sup,” a deep voice answered.“My brother, Tye said to call you.”“Tye who?”“Hammonds from Gilmer.�...�“Hell yeah! Sup!”“He said I should call you.”“Bet. What you need?”Jayce explained the situation. He began to feel at ease with the ex-con.“I’m finna be in your area. I can drop by wit’ da cash,” the dude said.“What?”“Don’t trip. I’m not far. I ain’t tryna rob you.”“What’s your name?”“Zero. Look, I ain’t finna hurt you. You want dis cash or nah?”Jayce agreed. He. I now knew it wouldn't be my last, so I decided that, at least for my own sake, I should describe the feelings so I could relive them again and again.I am an average white male, so I thought, who has been out of the loop since my wife left me several months ago. My sex life with her was so-so at best, although I did supplement it on the side on occasion. But lately I had been fantasizing on what it would be like to please a man, to be used by him, and be rewarded for my efforts. I had been. She asked me,’ So where are we eating tomorrow, handsome?’ I gave my best sly smirk and nonchalantly said,’ Le Bernardin, 6 ‘o’ clock.’ Her eyebrows rose a few centimetres.’ Le Bernardin? THE Le Bernardin? Eric Ripert’s Le Bernardin? That place is reserved a year in advance.’ I smiled inwardly. Eric Ripert was a true culinary genius, probably the best in NY. He was the head chef and owner of Le Bernardin, an acutely high end restaurant. The Saudi royalty ate here when they were in town. The. “I don’t want to embarrass you Julie. Tell you what, why don’t you stay here tonight.” “Would you mind? That would really help.” “There is one condition,” I continued, with a pregnant pause for emphasis, “you need to decide by tomorrow at breakfast whether you’re going to report your husband to the police, or what else you’re going to do.” “OK; I promise.” “You can stay in the bedroom, Julie and I’ll sleep on the couch.” “No way, Jerry. As desperate as I am I’m not going to take your bed..