The stalls typically painted black. There was never much light (except for the TV monitor on the wall in front of you). But, as my eyes grew accustome... to the dimness, I started seeing curious whitish colored smears, on the black painted walls on either side of me, as well as on the floor beneath my shoes. It was the 'leftovers', so to speak, of countless ejaculations, by hundreds and hundreds of other men, who had sat in that very same booth I was seated in, and eventually shooting their. He would show mewhere it was. Or would he?As I waited, I started to think about how reckless Iwas being. How much trust I had placed in one person.What if he never showed up? What if he took everythingwe had both worked for and disappeared? What if I hadbeen temporary? Just something he needed to get by?Left with nothing but a few boxes of photos and booksin the back of my SUV?But, didnt I literally put my life in his hands everytime we had played? How many times over the yearscould he have. More

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