I remember sitting at a nicely appointed bar lounge in the airport motel and listening to the piano player running her fingers over one of those borin... show tunes from some God-forsaken Broadway musical like a brain-dead zombie from the twilight zone.She had a huge wine glass for tips and it was distressingly empty in the absence of any notable rewards except for a single dollar bill that looked like it had been saved since World War II. Her face was pretty enough, but she didn’t have that. ' or 'next time i come i'm bringing my sister' "."well i guess thats not a problem. but lets go now" uh sorry kate but you cant go any were dressed like that." my sister was wearing sneakers and some nice jeans and a sweater'."hold on sweetie i brought some clothes." then they went into my sisters room. i checked the clock it was 7:00 PM and almost dark. (that may seem peculiar for it to get dark that early in the middle of the summer but it does in lake tahoe because the whole area is. “Did my Uncle get hurt?”She shook her head in the negative, but didn’t utter the words I wanted to hear. I had a pretty good read on the strong-willed FBI agent at that point and I translated that as more neutral than a simple no.Of course, we managed to wake Eve up on the way through the living room and she insisted on making us both a cup of coffee to take on the road over to the scene of the crime.We were both silent with our own thoughts on the way uptown and in a sense I really appreciated. I was grateful for the lifts and always thanked my benefactors. When I grew older and had the means to buy a car, I made it a practice to pick up hitchhikers as a way of paying back for all the rides I received in my youth. One day I picked up a young hitcher on my way home. “Where are you heading,” I asked. He told me and I replied, “Hop in, I can get you most of the way.” I drove about a mile without another word between us. Then I felt his hand on my knee. “Would you like a blow job?” He.