I won't be coming back to work for you after this time, so don't even bother asking me to."I watched him as he turned away and walked back to his pick...up. I knew he was convinced, in his own mind, that I was shortchanging him for all the work he did for me. He didn't know or care that half the work he did for me was really jobs I'd created to keep him working in order to give him a full week's paycheck. I didn't know how many deals I'd made with that in my mind. Deals where all, or almost all,. But he didn't want them frustrated.All three of them had such a great evening of fun. Steve didn't want to spoil their mood. So he knelt between them and pushed a latch behind an indentation under the front of the couch and the leading edge popped up."Oh," the two sighed and then they both bent over and spreading their feet apart for balance, grabbed the tubular frame with the intent to lift it up.But Steve had other ideas. They were so close, so warm. So inviting. So bent over.When they each. Still, he had had a good time talking to her once the dance options had been exhausted. He ginned, as it felt she had opened up more once she knew more about him. He would like to get to know her more, but overall she didn’t seem too interesting, and those clothes that she wore didn’t flatter her at all. Maybe if she had worn a little more daring clothing, then she would have been a little something. Still, he had been wrong about people before, but he couldn’t worry about that now, it was too. No. I couldn't let unconsciousness take me. I couldn't die. So I sang. Not to those around me, but to myself. A song of encouragement and stamina. I dulled away the pain, I kept back the agony as the wordless notes flowed from my voice.I was a graduate of the Bardic College. Magic dwelt in my song. I conjured stories and made them live in the minds of my listeners. I could make them swoon or cry or burn with lust. I could make them sleep or entrance them. I could make them believe anything.I.