I have been a workaholic, focused on my job for so long. The city has been built, but sadly no one of my kind lives in it. I know if I do not act fast..., I could die in my mansion which I worked so hard for, alone. The company which I work for planned on sending me to Mozambique to seal the deal on some staplers for a small tribe in the central confines of the country. I would be lying if I wasn’t planning other activities though. It had been years since I had felt the touch of a mans love on my. She too shows a bit of concern for our privacy. After a quick look to the left and right she says, “It seems you’ve enjoyed my little show, huh old man?” I give her a genuine smile in reply. “Mind if I take a peek?” Though she’s right in front of me now, something is wrong. “Move down a little more,” she says as she motions which way with her thigh-bound hand. “I’ll tell you when to stop,” she says as she smiles up at me. “Lift your ass up,” she says as she holds the waist band of my shorts. “Moving to Indianapolis is unlikely, because what you don’t know is that I own a house here and I’m starting a business with my friends once I graduate in May. That means I’m tied to Chicago as much as you’re tied to Indianapolis. Which puts any serious relationship on hold for, what, at least seven years, given surgical residency? So, unless I’m missing something, my conclusion is that you just want to be friends. Anything else seems highly improbable. Not impossible, mind you, but. Becky wasn't in bed. I half expected her to be sitting there looking at me, but what I found was a hand written note sitting on the table instead."Dear Jack, I met a guy in the Laundromat who said he could take me on into Yellow Stone first thing this morning. I know you said you wanted to spend another day in Jackson Hole before moving on again, so I didn't wake you. I didn't want you to feel obligated to me, or change your plans on my account. So I hope you'll understand. I needed to get.