I’m a payroll specialist.” “Sweet Jesus.” “What does it mean, Cynthia?” Her face was glazed with terror and her voice was very small. “Y...u’re for real. This is a, a, a… it’s a magic pussy detector.” After that, we just looked at each other for a while. I guess I was shocked that she’d said “pussy.” She didn’t seem bothered by that part at all. She was too creeped out by the “magic” part. “So…” I said, just for the sake of saying something. “Yeah,” she said back. “Well, I’m glad to learn I’m not. Oh, but leave my pussy to the expert for the time being.” “The expert?” I queried, intrigued. “Number one inter-state, all-college, female masturbation champion of 1979,” Vanessa teased me. “Now there’s a spectator sport I could have taken an interest in,” I commented. “What do you mean ‘spectator’?” she asked. “Your a pretty mean hand yourself. I’ve seen you in action. But no more stalling. I want a story. And I want it now.” “All right,” I began. “First, your clothes. You are wearing. Residues of his emanations, reflecting all his thoughts, experiences and emotions, still linger in low-frequency energy fields, so someone gifted like Ben has only to tune in to them, and hey presto, he will have a fully detailed record of every incident and experience Schwagger has ever known, big or small. The only problem will be sifting through such a vast quantity of knowledge to pick out the most suitable events for his book.'Jeremy diplomatically raised a finger to ask for our attention.. I notice a few people looking at us, wondering why I’m taking the attention of four men. But I don’t care. I love it. I find out that they’re all single and decided to make it a boys night, that is until I came along. I told them my woe is me story and why I’m here alone, but they make me feel better too. At five minutes of midnight, the music is shut off and a bunch of plasma televisions are turned on. We’re going to watch the ball drop from New York City. In the short five minutes, we talk.