I mentioned to him that he’d given me his finger when I got kicked out of high school in my senior year for certain sins of omission and commission,...even though I’d been truly innocent of the charge that had finally gotten me booted. I’d always accepted that as his gotcha. I had always agreed it was my playing sailor with Pat the Barmaid (See Pat the Barmaid series) that kept me in the shits and that it was my own fault. ‘But God,’ I intoned, ‘why has thou forsaken me. I’ve been on the straight. But at the same time, Jack had special qualities–such a nice smile and an infectious laugh. How could I choose? I didn’t want to disappoint either of them. So I didn’t. Due in no small part to the endless glasses of wine I had consumed, I found myself saying, ‘Why don’t all three of us go back to my room and get comfortable.’ After a moment of stunned silence, I swear I was as surprised as they were when I realized what I’d done. I’d just invited, not one, but two men to my room. Dan and Jack. Something they were building to. “Earlier tonight you again offered yourself to us. You re-affirmed your desire to serve and please us. You re-affirmed your desire to be our submissive slut … to please us … to serve us … to obey us.” I nodded firmly. My voice disappeared with the excitement of anticipation. “You confessed the desire to serve and please us that reflected your deep desire but didn’t really resolve the issues remaining for your immediate future … job and living.” I nodded more. My. I say that because, reading it back, it kind of makes sense. But I don’t think we made much sense that night. There were plenty of confused pauses, I am sure. ?Oh come on? she was saying to me ten minutes later, ?every man has some sad hobby. If it’s not playing the guitar badly, it’s reading comic books, or computer games???Football?? I began.?Football doesn’t count as sad, it’s a shared activity. Unless you sit and home and watch it on TV. It does count as tasteless, pointless and.