"So what brings you to Campbell, Jenkins & Burke?" he asked conversationally. I could see the gears turning in his head."You," I said simply. I decide...d that there was truly no good way to do this, so instead of hemming and hawing, I'd just rip the bandage off in one fell swoop, so to speak. "Do you remember the last time we were together?"He smiled at the pleasant memory. I tried not to fidget. "Yeah, it was your birthday, right?" That's right." I took a deep breath, and steeled myself for what. There was no need to hide anything from Hank and Marge. Even if they somehow managed to figure out what we meant, they'd forget it momentarily.The four of us sat at a table in the corner. We'd been sitting at the same table, most visits, for several months.Ron talked to Marge about the magazine she carried into the dining room. I felt he was really talking to me. He was talking about vacations; showing Marge the pictures of places they'd been, and places they'd wanted to go, once upon a time.. There had been a large trucknext to us for a while and the noise was irritating. I glanced over andsaw the truck driver leering down at me, my denim skirt had riddenpretty high up on my thigh. For some reason instead of covering up, Ifound myself slipping the shoulder harness of my seat belt under mybreasts and unzipping my sweater to show some cleavage, I stroked mythighs a couple of times, looked over at the trucker and licked my lips.He blasted his air horn in appreciation which brought me. He fixed a drink and then took the pain reliever. This cocktail would make him nice and relaxed for the inevitable pounding he was due to receive.He began looking at porn. The first video he selected was a Black man with a deep voice butt-fucking a Latina transsexual. His six-inch clitty was standing at attention. Then, his phone rang. It was Tank from the grocery store. “Hello,” Parris said apprehensively.“Whatchu doin’,” the five-foot-eleven-inch man quizzed.“Nothing. Just relaxing.”“I wanna.