Rabbi Michael Schulman.“Yeah, about that ... your mother has her ... bucket list hall pass, and she also wanted me to accept your little ... foursom.... That doesn’t mean that I’m going to join this little bacchanalia, okay? I’m not the most faithful man alive and I can’t really judge your mother, especially since I gave her that hall pass, but ... incest ... that’s a bit much for me. Besides, with all of this going on, my libido has taken a hit, you know,” the rabbi, soon to be my second and. I looked at the clock on the dresser; it read 3:00 A.M. The bathroom door was open and it was dark inside. She hadn’t needed to pee. She wasn’t in our room at all. I called to her, but no answer. I grabbed my robe from the back of her vanity’s chair and slipped out of the room and into the hall. I looked over the bannister and down the staircase. There was a light on in the kitchen; I could see its glow quite clearly, and I heard mumbling. She was in the kitchen. Someone was with her. I headed. The balance of my trip home was pretty uneventful.I had called no one at home, to let them know that I was on the way, we landed in Des Moines, and now I had to get from there to home. I had about 125 miles to go to get home, it was February, and it wascold. I pulled my uniform overcoat from my sea bag, something I had never had an occasion to wear. With my uniform blouse and it I barely had enough clothes on to stay warm.I caught a cab to the bus station, bought a ticket and sat back to. My dark hair is wisped across to the side, my brown eyes are clear. I have a squared off chin, deep set cheekbones and I am wearing a short black skirt with a gold belt, blue/black lined top, black strapped heels and a white tailored jacket and little make up except for my signature blood red lipstick that I know he has plans to eliminate all traces of. The look is both businesslike and feminine. “Welcome home Olivier. I have missed you” are the words I use in my soft New Zealand.