Too bad you are married, mam.” Then as they stood in the maintenance garage, they simply stared into the other’s eyes. He loved her eyes. Bluish, ...they seemed to highlight her face. She wondered. She wished. She wanted. She wanted him badly. The burning and toiling hormonal rage built up inside her legs. She felt she had to ask out her regular daydream of her life at some point. “May I ask” and she slowed down as she began to ask it “you a question, Lucas?” He said yes. “If a woman, any woman. They guys dressed and left, leaving me an 7 trussed up, messy, spent sluts. I plugged up each of them with a fat plug, so they would stay full. After I was done, I walked to the exit door and turned out the lights."Hey! Aren't you going to untie us?" One of the women to the left of my wife said."Not tonight. You girls get to stay put tonight." What about my husband?" another asked."They're all in on it" I replied. With that I locked the door and left.I came back about 10 the next morning. . He begins to relax. The drink pauses the treacherous grind, and when this sublime relaxation sets in, the man finds a kernel of truth within the mountains of desperate lies. At this point precisely a special relationship is formed with that particular glass of beer. Ah, the texture of it. Cold and penetrating, so penetrating that the man glances into his own soul and discovers through the joy of inebriation the purity of it. With each sip, leading to voracious gulps, the alcohol removes the man. ”“I should! You took me to church to be baptized and my first memory of anything, is you holding me up to kiss the icon of the Theotokos when I was about two. From the time I can remember homilies, which I guess was when I was about six, I’ve listened to Father Herman, and to the bishop. And now, to Father Nicholas. I really OUGHT to sound like them, and if I don’t, then someone should tell the bishop he’s making a grave error with his decision to ordain me.“But you know what? I don’t actually.