Delta Airlines. I’d rather see you in a sexy shade of lipstick...perhaps all dolled up. I don’t need you looking like a hooker that’s picking th...is heart throb up.”“You think I’d show up to your grandpa’s funeral dressed like a slut?! Shame on you. What kind of girl do you take me for?”“A good one,” I replied. “See you at 1 p.m.” Chapter 2: My Father’s SlutI pulled out two suitcases. I had not booked a return flight yet, as I had intentionally requested to take a week off for my birthday and. One of his duties is to act as host of the cocktail parties that take place at conventions, sales seminars, etc. I usually attend these events with him and we always take a room at the hotel where the event is held. In this day and age of DUI's it just doesn't pay to take a chance on getting stopped driving home with the smell of alcohol on your breath. I like to attend these events because even though I didn't cheat on my husband I did enjoy the attention I got from the out of town businessmen. But I was still happy. I did my best, every day, to show her that I loved her. I was understanding about her complaints about her belly and butt and thighs (remember I said there wasn't a woman alive who was happy with her body) even though I had no problem with them and told her so at every opportunity; she just never believed me. No woman on earth ever believes a man, not fully, when he tells her he loves her body. Not even after years of being together. I doted on her, and I got a little. He had no idea how many men he single-handily shot in that one battle but he killed a lot, enough to make everything go quiet. He knew it was quiet because he stood in the middle of his kill zone with smoking guns in hand while listening. The only sound he heard was the eeriness of death. He wondered if the men he killed were in their version of Heaven with a thousand virgins because surely alive and alone with his guilty conscience, bad memories, nightly nightmares, and sleepless nights, left.