This woman was making me nervous in the best way. “Can I get a drink, please?” I asked the bartender.The bartender looked me up and down. She gr...mbled, “I’m going to need to see some identification, miss.”Fucking hell.I tamped down my rising anger, reached into my purse, and pulled out my ID. I side-eyed the bartender hard and hesitated before letting it out of my hand so she could examine it more closely.“That’s right,” I said. “I’m Kaye Ayo Mapenzi: card-carrying 24-year-old adult. I would embroider increasingly elaborate ‘desires’ from the depths of my febrile imagination, which sometimes took the entire week between confessions to hone to perfection. I gradually became aware that as the fantasies I was relating become more graphic and lurid, noises were coming from the other side of the thin grille that were clearly those of a man in the throes of surreptitious sexual excitement. It was obvious to me what Father Oliver was actually doing and, if I am perfectly honest, I. “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks,” I said. “We’re going to be fine. But, we will accept a name brand toaster at the wedding. Well, I have toast and jam almost every morning.”“Sam? Are you serious! I said ten million. I have it to give and I want to give it to you, to the two of you,” he said.“No, no, like I said, thanks for the offer, but we don’t need it and we don’t want it. Really. Just come to the wedding and that’ll be fine. Okay?” I said.He just shook his head, but in the end accepted. My full name is Elaina Oleshka Aserova. I'm not sure when I was born. It must have been in the early thirteen hundreds..."As Rob listened he did the math and came up with seven hundred years. In light of her depression he decided to keep his mouth shut. He had a hard time keeping a neutral expression and missed most of what she said. He felt that was okay though, because he could always bug her about it again later.They exchanged gifts when they got back. Rob had to hustle to his bedroom to get.