I could have interpreted him wrong. Maybe he had checkedmy background and vocation beforehand. Taking me to the Wreathe mighthave been merely about ma...ing amends.We had returned from a lovely date in the quiet of an abandonedestablishment. Sebast had been characteristically reserved, yet had lethis hands roam on my body during our kisses.I pushed against him, yet he moved my hand away from his crotch."Don't you think I'm beyond my conditioning?" I crooned. "Or at least thepart you object to?"He. We shifted the seating into a circle and settled in: Mike in the lone chair, Randy on an ottoman, and Megan and I on a small sofa. What you call a settee, if you're Martha F. Stewart. We popped some of the beers we'd picked up, and eased back.Randy asked if he could twist one, and Megan found an ashtray. It felt like college again, with a joint going around and a longneck in every fist. I guess this was my night for regression. I should have known that the youngster would have da kine -- two. More

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