That's not yours, you read or saw that somewhere," I said."I ...how did you know?" she asked."Doesn't matter. I'm just saying we need to be careful," ... said."Whatever, 'Kirk Vonnegut.'" 'Kurt'," I said."Huh?" The writer's name is Kurt with a 'K'," I explained."I know how to spell 'Kirk'," she muttered under her breath.I raised my cup to my lips and the aroma of the beverage flooded my mind with memories of a frantic make-out session. A skinny, flat-chested girl with Marlboros and peppermint. He looked over at her, but just for a second. She remembered that he had said he only knew what that woman from the radio station had told him, and felt stupid for asking. That made her mad too.“I don’t know that I’ve heard any of them.”She was beginning to wish she’d just stayed in the rain.“Where are you taking me?” she asked.“They got you a room at a Bed and Breakfast place, in Hutch,” he said. “I’m supposed to take you to the station first, to meet Amanda and the rest of them. Then I’ll. Nothing is out at this hour but trouble. We waited and waited but therewas no sign of the cab. The last of people were filtering out and goinghome. It was late..."Hey!" I called out to this guy who was leaving the bar and heading forhis car. "Hey, do you think you can give us a ride?"He stopped suddenly and stared in our direction. The few sparse overheadparking lot lights were all that we could see by. I could see the lightreflected off his pants. He was wearing heavyweight shiny leather. She came home, all ready to fuck again…but I just pointed to the computer. There on the screen, cycling through, were several pictures of her and the two guys at the park. She sat down and started crying, asking if I was going to divorce her. I told her no, but she was going to be punished. I explained that to make it up to me, she was going to have to do some things, and follow my directions exactly. If she did this, then everything would be fine, and she could even continue with her.