”“No. I don’t want you to do that. There are some good dealerships in Hilton Head but unless it’s going to save a grand, I don’t want you to...do that. I don’t want to waste money but I don’t want you to spend a day looking for what might or might not be a bargain. And I hate being stranded. I love your beautifully aggressive car but there isn’t room for three.”“You could take it and I could ride my bike if it came to that. Or, if we can’t find one here that you like, we could rent one. But I. We put an ad out online, stating our intentions and our availability. We stipulated that the play partner had to be older, and had to be bisexual.The man who answered told us that he was 72 years old, nicely hung (6.5" and cut), and a shooter of big, wet loads. My wife thought that sounded perfect, and we invited him over.He was nearly half an hour late, which was a serious strike against him. He also attempted to blame it on our "sorry-assed directions," which is no way to make friends with. Locking the door to his office, he started with his work messages, most of which were updates, meeting notes, or other bits of information passed down. Then he looked at his personal e-mail that had messages from family and friends, as well as businesses that sent him advertisements. Once these two accounts were purged, he opened the secret account he and his mistress used to send secret messages. No one but Cora had this e-mail, and the pair used this to set up their rendezvous. There was one. He roamed his eyes boldly over his art teacher; he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on here, but he was far more confident in himself than he used to be. He saw that Karla noticed him looking at her, but she didn’t seem to mind. If anything she seemed pleased.“I’ll give you some free advice.” She told him. “Sometimes being right doesn’t mean that you win.”“How much did you hear?”“Enough.” Karla said simply. “I gather you two are exploring some options other than friendship.”“Maybe.” Jason.