Cerys’s disaffection with the idea of working for a living had been a constant joke between the two since school days. “It’s no good, Cerrie, yo...’ll have to find a way to retire. You’ll never hang on for another 40 years.”Cerys tossed her head indignantly, her long dark hair flicked back from her pale-skinned, oval, face. “42 if you don’t mind,” she responded. “I’m only 23. And anyway I may have found a way around that. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”“You’ve found a man who’ll keep. My husband is 54 and can’t manage a good bonk even with Viagra. The main contingent of attendees will be arriving in about 24 hours, so I expect you’ll be enjoying the pleasures of their youthful bodies for the four days until they go. My room is 309. You will always be welcome there. It’s seven o’clock. Time for dinner.”As we were leaving the room, the room opposite’s door opened and out came Jim with one of the secretaries. He with a smile on his face and the secretary looking slightly. ******Author's Notes:The subject of this story includes the debate around abortion. Irecognize that not all will share my particular views on the subject,and I do not intend to demean those with different views or impose myviews on others. We are adults, and in controversial subjects,reasonable disagreement is possible if we stay open-minded. Theframework of the abortion debate was a necessary tool for developingthis story (as you will see). Without that controversial framework,the story. It was almost a month later that I was invited to a pool party one sunny Friday afternoon at a swanky hillside house a few miles north of the Golden Gate bridge. The views of the San Francisco bay were incredible. And it was there I saw her again. She was standing on the other side of the pool and wearing a tiny string bikini and high heels. She was surrounded by a group of guys all wanting to get with her. I picked up a glass of wine and slowly wandered over to get a closer look at the girl.