This was a surprising place to find an Indian, but he was so pissed off at his owner that he was easy to recruit: Jackson Beauregard was the owner of ...he saloon.Anyway, the swamper was in as good a position as the bartender to hear all kinds of local gossip, and he already had something useful for us. Four militia men were due into Albany to pick up a slave (an Indian) who had run away from the Butler plantation. He was being held in chains in a small room across the hall from the police. There was some reminiscing about the past and events that had happened since high school as well as what the people were doing now. They all were impressed that Bob was in Law School. The drinks were flowing and the bar was open during dinner. Bob was careful since he was driving so he was slowly slipping on his usual beer.During and after the meal there were speeches from members of the bridal party and the usual toasts. The Bride and the Groom said a few words. Per tradition when the band. But at the same time, the thought of Larry seeing mywife like that without her knowing it was turning me on. “Chris, I’m sorry. I guess I better go on home,”Larry said, turning to go back out. “No, wait a minute Larry,” I heard myself say-ing. “Come on in here a minute. Just walk real quietly,OK.” “W-wha… you *want* me to come in there?” “I guess it wouldn’t hurt anything for you tojust look. But we can’t wake her. “What does that make me Mum,” l said as we held each other under the shower.“Don’t think like that baby,” she said, “don’t categorise yourself, this is just about having fun, if you enjoy it do it again, if you didn’t there’s no pressure.”“But l shouldn’t have enjoyed it Mum, l shouldn’t want it again, it’s not what men should do.”She held me tight. “I understand baby,” she replied, “believe me l have done so many things l shouldn’t have done, we shouldn’t be doing this, but l don’t want to.