This woman really liked to fuck and I figured I better not blow her off, or I wouldn’t be getting blown anytime soon. Anyway, it was about 9:30 p.m....when I wandered out of O’Toole’s pub. I turned the corner onto Main St. and was hit by a Mack truck. At least, it felt like a Mack truck. A big ham fist caught me square in the chest, then another quickly caught me on the side of the head. I went down like a sack of hammers. I looked up from the sidewalk, dazed, at three very large men standing. I didn’t think you’d know any poetry.’ ‘We’re not all uncultured. I’ve always loved Noyse. And ‘The Highwayman’ describes nights like this better than anything else I’ve ever heard. I’m glad you like it.’ ‘It’s always been one of my favorites.’ Then her tone changed slightly, became lighter, more bantering. Too bad you don’t know more poetry. I could like getting you to quote poetry to me.’ ‘You do me wrong,’ Steve answered in a teasing tone. ‘I know other poems.’ ‘Then quote me some romantic. Unfortunately, Mark had evolved into an early riser and couldn't really takeadvantage of sudden holiday. Waking back up at quarter of nine, he walkedinto the kitchen in his boxer briefs and put on a pot of coffee. No need tograb the paper. He wrote half of what was in it the day before.Parking himself on the couch, Mark turned on the TV and flipped through thecable news networks for a quick glance at what's going on around the world."Nothing," he muttered out loud and went about sampling the. .I.."You continued to stroke me, it was a hot summer night and you removed the blanket. I could see your small hand wrapped around me, stroking slowely. You moved the pillow, placed your head around mid between my upper an lower head. You could easily turn down, and you did. I could feel cold wetness on my tip, more wetness. Then you moved up again, looked at me, played."Yes, embarrassing, what was embarrassing darlin", you asked, and your hand stopped stroking and started to play with my.