My last Items I packed with me was my pistol, shotgun, and three boxes of ammo. Never knew.The past few weeks, I've been tying up all my loose ends. A... Kell's, since I was a regular, I announced I was leaving town. As a gesture of farewell I had a free dinner and shots for my last night. At work I've been, in so-so subtle ways, telling folks at work that I was moving out to the west coast. So the last day of work, I picked up my last paycheck, said goodbye to everyone, and drove home.--"Okay,. ’ ‘Do you think you will need one?’ ‘Who knows?’ she admitted ‘he might be hideous, or smelly, or something’ The barman looked askance at her, ‘You haven’t seen a photo of him?’ ‘Um, no.’ She blushed, ‘ He didn’t have any pictures online, he just described himself to me, he sounded nice.’ She looked a bit doubtful now, at having taken this Internet stranger at his word. ‘Well I hate to be a party pooper,’ he said, ‘but how are you going to recognise him?’ ‘Oh, he’s going to be carrying a copy. ”“Hmm, but you’ll always be my squirt,” He grinned and I got the full effects of his dimples. “And I can’t help but notice you avoided the question…”Heat rushed to my cheeks as I contemplated sharing my predicament with Dan. He’s really smart, studying some fancy science degree at University and he’s had his fair share of girlfriends and one nightstands. But admitting that I can’t orgasm…? That’s pretty embarrassing, especially in front of someone as sexy as Dan. I didn’t want him to think of. By "cool" I mean that the heater was down, so we were all freezing our asses off, you know? Of course, after my love life and recent marriage, I'm pretty used to cold. Well, I guess I better introduce myself, so you know what and who the hell is going on here, eh?My name is Julie Vetrablik. Before, I was a brunette thirty-four year old waitress at Ricky's, remarkably well-endowed (if I do make that remark myself) and with a figure that men would die for. That is, before. Before the divorce, I.