Jack wasn't always right, but he was sure as hell right this time. Not only was it a grenade, it was coming right toward me. I had what I hoped would ...be a great idea and adjusted my position to better prepare my plan. I switched to holding my AK by the barrel end - which burnt the hell out of my hands because the barrel was hotter than hell from all the rounds I'd fired through this piece of shit. But right now I had to ignore the pain and get on with my plan. When the grenade got close enough. This was nervous time. I had been so hot all week and had dressed for sex, as I'm sure Mark could see...I was in the mood for fucking but it wasn't Jerry touching my knee. It was his boss. My knee was ready for touching, just not by Mark. We sat drinking our wine and I felt the warmth of his leg...under the table he put his hand on my bare leg...I looked at him now...scared and questioning...my eyes were saying: "Jerry's in the kitchen and could come in at any moment...without warning...?" . I knew at some time they would get to me.I guess I just fell in with the situation, by now I'd been fucked too many times. Trying to prove to anyone outside of this room that I wasn't a hooker was going to be real difficult ... I mean who was going to believe my story ... none of these guys would testify I was any thing else but one of the hookers they had ordered and Sandra would only say I was working in with her.Sooner or later they would have their fill, they would all be satisfied, drink. I turn to look over my shoulder at you as we walk along the New York street, we are hand in hand and the sun is warm, yet there is a cool breeze gently blowing. The sounds of the city surround us as we stroll along the sidewalk, I sort of walk in front of you as people often do when weaving against the flow of New Yorkers doing whatever it is that they do. You tug my hand and pull me back to you and into your arms. You look down at me with your blue green eyes and I am mesmerized. My breath.