Sarah Jane had been gone a month. Jim had made do with memories of their time together, a jar of Albolene cream and his right hand. Frankly, it was no... a very satisfactory arrangement. So he was horny, but didn’t realize how much so until Janet, who was very sexy let’s not forget, was standing right in front of him asking, no practically begging, to be fucked.“What time should I pick you up?”“Just hang around here, OK? This party’s almost over anyway and then we can go to the cabin.”“OK.”Janet. Teresa even pointedly asking Kathy if she was willing to offer private lessons, for both her and her daughter! Our local mousey but sexy widow couldn't take her eyes off of it either and also very innocently and delicately asked what the device was intended for. I don't think Kathy frightened her too terribly much with the answer. Nor did she enquire (even politely) why none of us had been wearing any clothing outside earlier, while she had been watching the events through her front window.The. I decided on a journalist. Marc Collins was British and wrote for High magazine. Whilst answering calls at reception, I’d read every single one of his articles. Surely, that gave me enough ammunition to hold a conversation. I walked over, belatedly wondering whether he might be gay. It was too late. He’d already seen me approach, had already smiled, was looking me up and down and trying to recognise me. Game fucking on. “Marc Collins? It’s such an honour to meet you!”His smile became a little. “And I had a vasectomy years ago and you might want to have a baby. That’s an issue you should think about—having a baby.”“I can deal with that,” I said, shaking my head. “And I’d probably be a lousy mother,” I added. “I can be pretty goofy.”He laughed.“It would be pretty goofy for you to stay here in the middle of nowhere. This is not Boston.”“I know all of that,” I said.“This might be my Shangri La, but it might not be yours. It’s very quiet and I write and read all day. You might get bored.