What is it this time?I wanted to ask something much more, well, useful, for want of a better way to put it, but my natural inhibition against using cr...de language prevented me from typing out any of the possibilities that occurred to me. It was somehow as though I didn’t want to sully cyberspace with crude language and indecent images. The problem was, with my interest piqued, I had lots of tings I wanted to ask.> Let’s just say that, for the purposes of this game only, I were to let you do. He was the most incredible man I knew...that is -- until I met Damon. Damon was the polar opposite of Jeremy. While Jeremy worked at an established fortune 500 company, Damon was a powerful “hustla.” In other words: he sold drugs. Weed, crack, meth, jiggs -- you name it, he sold it. On any given day, Damon would probably be wearing baggy designer jeans, a large t-shirt, expensive sneakers, and plenty of gold jewelry and diamonds. Jeremy was thirty-five with a squeaky clean history, no. This guy seemed to have come genetically equipped to be a masseur. He’s wearing a maroon shirt and black shorts. Some sort of uniform at this spa. I pull off my tee shirt and track pants, and notice the look in his eyes. It is very satisfying to see a boy-toy lust after your body, especially when you reach my age. I tell him to do me from head to toe using sweet almond oil, hoping he understands that that means every inch. He asks me whether he should oil my hair as well, and I tell him it. Am I interrupting? I am sorry..." No, it's okay. Really. I didn't intend to start work today." Dinner is ready. Will you come?" Absolutely! I lost track of time. I'm really hungry, Lida." You should pace yourself, Mister Brown. Make yourself take a break every hour." I was about to speak, but she went on, "and this room could do with redecorating. It is very dingy." Suddenly, she went white and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh! I'm sorry! I have been so rude!"I couldn't help it, I laughed..