What time…, wait it’s fucking Saturday. Saturday! I’m so messed up, what when wrong?” The fleshly and over-sexed 23 year old whispered in her ...ead. A faint and feeble flavor of crotch and cum stuck in her throat like the seasoning of a Christmas goose. The taste vivid on her dry lips; the memory muted by the rounds of rum. Tricia Saratopia, an attractive and confident deli clerk from Hampton, New Hampshire stirred about, shifting uneasily in her bed slowly; almost slow motion, touching her. She saw us and gave a half wave and a half smile. She looked uncomfortable and uncertain. We went to her table and before either of us could speak Lorraine busied herself asking what we were drinking, and then departed bar-wards."Hello, Nicola," I said and I smiled. She looked tired, thin and beaten, but still very beautiful."Hi, Kevin."She patted the bench next to her, but I sat in a chair at right angles to her, and turned to face her.Silence. I studied her. Once again I was captivated by. More

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