The outfit of a waiter at the Café Du Margarite. Another uniform hung there, still sealed in the black plastic of the dry cleaners. How long since th...t had been put there? A year? Two? Maybe more. Nelson’s mind struggled with the bland routine that had become his life. Time simply had no meaning. With effort, Nelson pieced together the date and did the math. Three years tomorrow. Three years of living like an average denizen of Singapore. Was it really three years since he had stood in the back. Carol would casually move it back and forth suggestively between her legs. We could see her sexy underpants. At home we kept up our fantasy talk about her fucking him. We often stayed very late at his place. Carol would still be wearing the T shirt and by now had taken her bra off. One early morning after we'd had some wine and smoked some pot, I said, "We all need to go to bed." We went into his bedroom. We got in bed, Carol in between us. I said to Carol "Go ahead and kiss him, you know you. More

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