”I blinked some more.“Which part?” I asked.“I’m fine with you wanting to kill any guy who touches me. You can’t actually kill them, but I�...�m happy that you want to. I’ll have to keep going out on dates, because it would look weird if I didn’t. I can get away with not having a boyfriend. I can blame that on Dad. But I have to at least go on dates. You won’t have to worry, though, because the only guy who has touching-Cathy-rights is you. I’d love it if you could sleep with me all night, except. “Sometimes they just put liquor in the straw.” “I don't want to get drunk,” I told him. “So it doesn't matter.” "If you're staying sober because you're afraid of me hitting on you, I'm not going to,” he said. He took a sip of his scotch, making me wish I'd had one instead of the fuzzy navel, but it was tasty, even if it wasn't going to get me under the table with one drink. I like the peachy flavor, and I could use the potassium from the orange juice. “I didn't think you were going to hit on. I kept my burnt-auburn and dark red wig, my shoes, a purse with condoms and lube in a backpack and wore sunglasses over my slutty eyes to walk the 10 feet to my car and drove away. At the first open parking lot I got rid of my extra clothes and buckled on my 5-inch patent leather stiletto heels and added my lipstick and gloss. I smiled at the whore in the mirror and drove on. I went to the south end of the Boulder Highway to the adult theater that always had action. My plan was to go the. Should I message him to tell him I was coming? Or think about the girlie items I needed to pack? There was barely thirty-six hours before the flight. I did a mental checklist of the essentials; bra, white fishnets, matching suspenders and my best cream satin panties (the latter, I decided, had to be super-absorbent, in view of the copious anounts of cum which I was hoping my cyber-lover would be splashing over them.) Matching lipstick and nail varnish, plus my beloved Elie Saab scent. I was.