”I tried to edge in an (I love you) but, she cut the line. Probably was picking her up as I looked at the dead phone.“What’d you say?”“I sai...: he was probably picking her up in his arms!”It was difficult to relax in their absence.No Girl. No car. No Tommy.I couldn’t even find solace in the television. Sat there, dark screen and all“What if she leaves you for him?” Aloud to that black screen, my reflection in shadow.“Oh-my-God.”“Get up and pace. Now!”I obeyed myself and paced for a while. Up to. Shit what have I started by telling her that, now she will want more facts. Carol always wanted to know the smallest detail of how things work and would ask questions until she understood things to her liking. Her curiousness always had us discussing all kinds of issues over the years but nothing where this was heading. Her first question I kind of expected. "So what happens at a massage parlor?" "Well you get a massage, like a rub and tug." I stammered trying to find a quick answer. "You. He made a mental note to thank them later. The phone rang behind the bar, she turned and answered it. His eyes walked all over her. She was wearing a red evening gown; he guessed it was handmade by some effeminate designer from Paris with an unpronounceable name. Obviously he knew his shit. The dress accentuated her shape which was long in some places and full in others. She was narrow waisted yet with curved hips and a round ass, “ghetto booty” was the slang term. “Okay, bring it in. It wasn't like the usual rush and I saw at least one of the girls reaching behind her to fasten her bra before she stood up. Kirsty spotted her as well and was giggling beside me as the couple involved walked past us."Stop it," I hissed, "Do you want to cause trouble?" No, but it was so funny," gasped Kirsty, her face turning pink."What was?" I asked, "Her having to fasten her bra?" No," she said shaking her head, "It was his shirt sticking out of his fly."I nearly strained my neck as I twisted.
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