The guard-bots must have assessed the danger to be minimal on their own,because they sat down and went back to doing their usual guard-botroutine. Th...y didn't mind my company as I leaned against the back ofthe desk. I was feeling... empty. Drained.Despondent. Whoever they are, I thought, I'm not one of them, nor willI ever be.I'll be trapped in this tower forever.I saw something move by the east doors. The guard-bots stood atattention again. I looked around the desk and saw it was. You can call me that, or think of me by that name if you'd like."I wondered then if she wanted me to give her a fake name, but then decided it was redundant. Obviously she preferred thinking of me as "Bus Guy" perhaps, and so let it go at that.Though the bus wasn't nearly as full as it had been the previous day, the guy sitting two rows behind us concerned me. I soon discovered however, his presence there didn't concern 'Julie' one iota. She was again wearing an equally short skirt, though this. I mean, those girls practically jumped me. But other than that, totally faithful. Um, unless I've forgotten something.Anyway, June is a flirt. At neighborhood parties she's always hanging around with the men; the womens' talk about kids and recipes just bores her. And she loves to dance. I mean LOVES to dance. If my wife had it to do over again, she'd probably make dance a career. That's the one weird thing about our relationship. I don't dance at all. Well, hardly. Maybe a waltz now and. But that isno longer possible. I am now virtually the property of Ms. Parker and her19 year-old daughter LaKeisha. They have me working in their nail salonas a manicurist/pedicurist. In my time off, I work as their housekeeperand maid. Instead of a suit and tie, my typical outfit is now a pair ofwhite capris, a slutty pink top, three inch heels, with a dab of makeup.My hair is dyed blonde (almost white), cut into a short pixie. I have anose ring, and today I am wearing large hoop.