I peer outside the door, and knowing there is no one around for miles, I walk around on the deck, just incase you are out there. I soon notice your bo...ts are no where to be seen. ‘Figures…he probably went to find whatever is alive out there,’ I mutter as I head inside and close the door. I walk to the kitchen and take a bottle of water from the fridge. Laying down on the couch, I stretch out and watch the fire. After a few minutes, I close my eyes and relax, enjoying the solitude. As I lie. He had her repeat the act hundreds of times at an identical table in his basement. In the story, it worked. She would often break out in a sweat or tremble there in the restaurant, afraid she was going to lose control and reach for the glass before the next man arrived. When he did arrive, her gratefulness for taking her away from the glass made her that much more pliable in his hands. Tiffany had told me it was a favorite story -- it made her "juice" she'd said -- so I'd insisted we meet this. More

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