She gave me directions to her apartment and told me to bring a pint of whiskey. Here I went, Jim Bean, brown-bagged, in hand, to her apartment, whic... was a glorified dorm room on campus. I hadn't ever seen her before and this was in the day before Facebook, so I was somewhat nervous about what would answer the door. I figured that if the door opened and I was confronted by a horrifyingly hideous creature, I could simply walk away. After all, it wasn't as if I knew her or had to work or go to. “Is that sewing your doing?” I asked. “Ah Yeah. We have a live sex show coming up soon and I’m making the costumes. It’s one week from now. You really ought to come if you are in town.” She answered. “Ah! That’s no good,” I said, “I’ll be flying back to Alice at the end of the week.” “That’s too bad, luv,” she said as she went back to her sewing. Walking through the curtain was like walking through. More

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