So let's say about four years ago."I nodded."How would you describe him?" I asked."A drug-dealing, murdering piece of shit," Elizabeth answered. This ...time there was no hesitation."I was speaking about a physical description," I said.Again, my wife took her time before answering."Large," she decided. "I mean, he must be six-three or six-four. I know he has several distinguishing tattoos and scars. He has a teardrop tattoo on his face and a row of crosses on his ... left, I think ... his left. He hadn’t made it 30 feet before the first guy came up to me and introduced himself. He asked if I wanted to play so I smiled and said “It’s not up to me, you’ll have to ask him.” The guy just nodded and took a step back, only to be replaced by another guy. “You are very beautiful,” he said, “Are you here to play?” I gave him the same response and he smiled as he said “I certainly hope he says yes.” Returning with my earring in hand, he was stopped by these two guys before even being. At best, I’d consider myself average, maybe pretty or cute, but certainly a far cry from her level of gorgeousness. From me, she gets no competition. She talks. I listen. Gorgeous men ogle her and I barely warrant a second glance. She’s the socialite and I’m the recluse. In fact, other than her and the few acquaintances I’ve managed to make along the way. I’m not sure anyone even knows I exist at all. I try to smile and look hopeful about my future. Christine flashes her perfect pearly whites. You don't need them to cover your legs and you'll be warm enough at Robert's - I intend this for your Saturday night. OK? Just remember to wipe the oil off your legs if you cycle there!" She stood, stroking her dress as it lay on the table. I looked at Lisa and she shrugged."Sarah," I said, thinking. "I've got lots of stuff here that would do for you on the Friday, but- if you'd like to come shopping, I think I've seen something that would be - that would please you?" I wanted to be alone with.