And not only that, but he had two stories which I had never seen before, the latest published only three months prior. This meant one thing. He was st...ill alive!However, TooMuchTime's account settings do not allow for any contact. No anonymous email, no current email. How do I get his attention?I thought, maybe if I had an author's account, I would get special communication privileges. So I signed up, using the very stupid pseudonym I came up with when I was writing to him. (I truly hate. ”She might be late, because some of the girls are going clubbing. There’s beer in the fridge, if you want it.” she winked at Pabby, and left for the party.Although she is only 29, it felt good to be desired by these two young boys.The party was held in a City center pub, and went well. There was plenty to drink and eat, and the music was good. When the pub closed, no one really wanted to go clubbing, so she decided to go straight home. In the taxi, she spent the whole journey planning how she. I want to…”“So do it,” she said, her voice so soft, so quiet, that I could barely hear her.“Here?”“There.”She turned her head and pointed with her chin and her eyes. A shadowed alleyway, dark enough to hide anyone entering more than a few yards…“Are you sure?”“Yes.” So much impatience. Lust. Need, all contained in that one simple word. She led, I followed, or maybe I led, and she followed… I couldn’t really tell. Either way, we ended up in the shadows, fifteen or twenty feet away from the. "Don't fret," I whispered. "There's nothing they can do to you." Well, young man," said the principal, "what do you have to say for yourself?" As to what, sir?" As to your insulting Mr. Simmonds." I didn't insult him." He says you did." I told him not to be a twit. That's not being insulting." And what would you call it?" A precautionary admonition, sir." Rachel tittered."And who taught you to say that?" Mr. Simmonds, sir. He's quite insistent about improving our vocabularies." Hmpf. Yes. Quite.