" So you see, Ed," Stan continued, "we don't have any problem with your suggestions. And if what I see of Gina is any indication, we can really add so...me texture to our music. Duets and even trios aren't out of the question."I sighed. "Thanks, guys. I was worried. The last thing I wanted to do was to piss you off. You've given me a new life and I'm really enjoying it." We noticed," Stan laughed. "Now, on to the next problem. We need a name. We can't go on just being Stan Foxwell and his band. We. You tie a knot,leaving about two feet of the belt remaining. From your perch on top ofmy waist, you look down at my helpless form. My harem top is still offmy shoulders, forced to hunch in by my wrists being bound. My hair iseverywhere. My beautiful neck bears the marks of your mouth's assault.In my blue eyes, you see something you hadn't seen before:A trace of fear."What ... what are you going to do to me?" I ask.You bend down for a kiss and note that I make a face. You grab my headwith both. My next step was to confuse anyone who tried to trace me. I jumped on a bus back into London where I caught a train down to Dover. On the ferry I met up with a truck driver who kindly gave me a lift to Brugge in Belgium and from there I caught a bus to my ultimate destination, a little farm just outside Roeselare where an old friend of mine lived with his Belgian wife.Bruce and Donna — no, that's not her real name but that's what everyone has always called her since we were at college together. The next day was very busy but Cathy had no clients and I had the day off. It was sunny and we decided to get away from the crowds. We hired cross country ski gear, bought a map and food for a picnic, we looked smiling into each other's eyes and bought a whole packet of paper napkins, then we set off across the top of the mountains. It was a beautiful day, bright sunshine with wisps of high cloud drifting across the turquoise blue sky. The cross country skis were hilarious, extra long with.