“What ‘cha doin’?” Rory asked, placing a plate in front of me. She had another plate for herself. “I made a ham sandwich for you.”“I was...watching the clouds.” I took a bite of the sandwich. Mayonnaise squeezed out and fell into my lap; a glutinous goop of yuck. I tasted mayonnaise, nothing else, and put it back on the plate. Hunger didn’t overcome the slathering of mayo.Rory ate away. “Mmmm. Good, isn’t it?”Nope. “It’s great. I’m not hungry for ham.”“Give it here. I’ll eat it.”I pushed the. My wife would never do anything remotely like the things they were doing . So after my divorce I got to know them much better . I have been invited over to their house about a month after my divorce (no k**s) because Dan said that I looked depressed at work which I was . My regular supply of pussy when ever she would give me some was gone. I hated going to bars to me it was just desperate people looking for a quick one night stand . On this particular night it was the Daytona 500 race and since. Do you have a death wish for me?”“No, not at all,” he laughed. “I was thinking of something that appeared daring. How about learning to fly? There are about a dozen of us in the Circle that are pilots, including me. A couple of others are even instructors and another man flies for Atlantic Airlines.”Nikky mulled that over. “At least that might be a lot less risky than your first ideas.”Dave chuckled, “The only one of the pilots that’s ever had an incident has been our friend Ken Toomey. He was. “Just get your suit and a towel and some suntan lotion,” she said. “And don’t tell Claire what you’re doing.”Who would say “no” to Miss September?Fifteen minutes later I was strolling along beside Miss September, three blocks from home ... and Claire ... heading for the creek.“Creek” is probably the wrong word for where we were headed. Everybody called it that, but it was lots bigger than a creek. It wasn’t quite a river though, and if it had a real name I don’t know what it was. Everybody.
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