She jumped back, tripping and falling in her high heels, swearing like a drunken sailor. "Fuck fuck fuck!" she screamed. "What kind of miserable wimp...are you. Look what you've done!" "I—I couldn't help . . ." "Clean it up you wimpy little shit, and if you're man enough to actually go out, make sure you're home before midnight. "Fuck!" she screamed again. I watched, sick to my stomach, as she went upstairs to clean up and change. It took her another forty minutes for her to repair the. . I felt a hand on my leg. I opened my eyes and it was Claire. “Can I sit on your lap, please?” she whispered to me. I nodded in compliance.After a few minutes, I heard Claire say, “Doesn’t this feel good, Charles. Haven’t you wanted to do this for the longest time, I mean ... be in this spa. I could tell at last years’ BBQ you wanted to get inside it.”“Yes, Claire ... I have, maybe when we start making money dancing, we can afford to get one of these ourselves,” I said.“And where would you put. More

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