I walked into the living room to see Sara in a pair of black leggings and a "vintage" Sex Pistols t-shirt sitting on the couch looking pissed at the w...rld. "Bad date?" I asked, taking a sip of my drink. "Fuck you!" she snapped. "Whoa, easy there, little girl." Fuck you! Fuck him! And fuck every guy in the world."It appeared her date did not go well. "I went to all the trouble of getting ready for a date and that asshole decides he would rather hang out at his friend's house," Sara ranted.. Panos greeted him through the open door. The sound of Parisian jazz from the 1950s drifted seductively from the record player in a corner of the large room.He was Lorenzo's new compatriot of a certain age. They had a lot in common. For one thing both were writers. Lorenzo wrote romance novels under the pseudonym of Mabel Ethelreid. He was rather well known to English ladies who gathered in groups to discuss such works. Panos was a poet. He was not published but he did enjoy reading his latest. It was the cufflinks not often seen on a lot of men these days and they looked like they had a gold engraving on them but she couldn't see without her glasses on.The man started to walk towards her. Georgie gathered the suit he was wearing was definitely tailored, made to fit his impressive physique. Black with a dark purple lining inside. She looked him up and down and noted his smart polished black shoes, inwardly thinking to herself that he probably has someone to polish them for him.The man. It was they who took steps to freeze him out, if only because of his boasting of his prowess." Boasting?" Sharon asked."To his mates or people he thought were his mates," I replied. "Water under the bridge now, I only found out about it much later." I didn't know, sorry Dave." Not your fault, you were quite a catch and he was unwise to boast about something like that." Well..." As I said, not your fault." OK, but he still blames you." His problem, not mine. I've moved on." Still doing the.