IN reality, the venture…whatever it was…would require Mr. ______’s capital to pull of or it just wouldn’t fly. For several minutes, Mr. _____ ...ixzed me with his ‘Are you for real or full of shit’ stare and tapped his fingers on the desk. I sat in the chair, knowing full well that underneath it was a thirty foot drop on hinges tied to a red switch under the boss’ desk…comfortably resting my weary ass and forcing myself not to scratch at the scabbing scars all down my back. The boss asked me what. Scream? Push his hand away? Part of me liked the attention I was getting. Besides, I thought, ‘How far can it possibly go? We’re on a crowded bus!’ I let it go and smiled back. The hand on my bum moved upward, and I heard the zipper of my skirt as it slid with the hand. The hand moved to my thigh and the man behind me whispered, “Oh my! Sussies! You are a bit of a tart, aren’t you Missy?” The warm hand on my bare thigh was making me wet. I stammered, “It’s not what you think!” but I still. Dessert came and went without a hitch and I became panicked when I realized that my time was almost up… Evan walked me back to my hotel room, and I was about to say goodnight, when I found that my roommate had me locked out. I took this as a sign, and asked him to accompany me for a walk along the beach. Up and down the length of the beach we walked, twice. After which we settled down in the sand, sitting and talking, about nothing and everything. I discovered his deepest secrets, and he mine…. The disco following the wedding reception had been going for a good couple of hours by now, and the dance floor was starting to empty. Most people had either exhausted themselves with over-enthusiastic dancing, succumbed to drink and sunk into a couch, or paired off for intimate chats in dark corners. The DJ had worked his way through his repertoire of recent chart hits, disco classics and a few Sixties numbers to keep the older ones happy. Now it was apparently time for some smooching. A bit.