(i.e. he was going to stick a probe inside of me) I could only think of what he would really like to stick in me. Little did I know... It was time to ..."get down to business". The nurse had neglected to give me a sheet to put over my legs, so Dr. Asshole got one for me. He then pulled out and set up the stirrups, in which I was to rest my feet. The exam table had "handles" to hold. I guessed it was made for people who didn't like exams, perhaps. With my bottom hanging so far off, leaving me. “They kicked him out?” Taylor said. “Good!”“Touch base with me before you leave town, if you have to leave,” I said.“I will,” Taylor promised. I felt bad for my friend but there was nothing I could do to help. I would have felt bad if the tables had been turned and Jay was cut instead. Cut down days just sucked!I dressed and grabbed a quick breakfast before heading over to our training center. I bumped into Mike Wemberly in the parking lot.“I wanted to thank you for all your help, Andrew,” Mike. Lissa rarely hangs her own stuff there anymore, and then almost as a lark. She organized the daddy/daughter show several months ago even though most of her work was tagged NFS. One was officially the property of the Whitney in New York. It was their second purchase, and the head curator called angling for a third. All twenty of my meager entrees wound up walking out the door opening night. That was a Friday. Monday I called in to the warehouse and spoke to my boss. "Remember how on Friday you. I find it telling that I didn't have to search long at all."He said it in such a matter-of-fact manner that it sent a shiver up my spine, one I couldn't suppress. It was like a big-game hunter telling his prey that he would track her until he found her, no matter how long it took. Part of me started whispering "stalker." I tried to keep from wondering what the hunter would have done once he caught his prey. Then I remembered that I was his prey.I considered telling him I had planned on calling.