You're flirting to get them to pay for some fun. Now I'm not one to pay to play, but for you I'll make an exception. I wait until you've stumbled back... out of the back room with what must be your first client a few steps ahead of you with a big smile on his face. I walk right up to you with a shit eating grin on my face. Your sexy eyes see my movements and you freeze in your tracks, with a broad smile forming across your sensual lips coated with a fresh bit of come-fuck-me lipstick. But then you. . ," he said looking at me with that sly little grin of his. "We each have a beautiful wife, right?" Right," I said, starting to get an inkling of where he might be going.I have a feeling I'm going to like this, I thought."Since we're going to be stuck here for several months—and since no one will ever know about this except you and me—how would you like to share everything, including all the little intimate stuff we receive from our wives?" he asked."Next best thing to being there, man!" he. I did, too. I wasn’t me anymore. I was somebody else. I was angry all the time, angry with everyone. All my friends were nearly afraid to talk to me. My teachers were afraid of what I’d do to them. I wasn’t me. One night at my house, all my friends were there. Francesca was there. She was always so pretty, but she didn’t like me that way. “Chris,” Francesca said. “We’re worried about you.” I sat down and gazed at her. “How come?” “Chris,” Francesca said. “You’re just not yourself lately. I know. The capacity to love one another, even in the midst of pain, is what gives love its meaning. How can a woman love a boy who has broken her heart? How can a girl love her mother when she refuses to see that she is no longer a child? How can a nurse love the old, the sick, who are angry, ungrateful and beyond help? Why does a man give himself utterly, body and soul, as husband to his wife?"The answer, my friends, is that love is the meaning of life itself. It is not a rule to live by, in order to.