Like all men, he loved it; but Monica had, going back to their White House years, put Hillary in the position of refusing it.It is what bimbos do, the...exasperated wife reasoned. Her feelings were just as frayed today as they had been twenty years before when the pudgy, youthful intern ruined intimacy for the couple. “Bill, if only slutty women kept their hands off married men, all would be right with the world, wouldn’t it?” she whispered, her voice cracking with lamentation.He blushed. He knew. It always made me smile.Thinking about my wife, I mean, and the way we ... well, the way we started off together.We were maybe a little older than most who meet and then marry for the first time, both of us twenty-seven, differing in chronological age by only a matter of weeks. By then, statistics tell us, most of us have married at least once, and had at least one child; and right smart of that number have divorced, many of those having already entered into second marriages.Not so with us.I. I left the default mode on for opaque windows starting at 15 seconds after departure. There was a slight sense of pressure as the train sealed, and then a final warning chime. My seat locked in the correct orientation with full computer control, and at precisely 10:45:00 the train departed.Superconducting trains are known to be smooth, but this one was so gentle my view out the window was the only indication we were moving. In the first fifteen seconds, forward acceleration was ramped linearly. “You’re not going anywhere from now on,” he announced giving a crooked smile on his mask. “I..I..” She didn’t know what was happening.“Let me explain.” He laughed. “I paid more so I could explain it to you for the first time.” The man gripped her cheek pulling her face back to look over her shoulder at him; enjoying her expression as he gave her understanding.“You’re in the most filthy whore house possible. I couldn’t even imagine what you will be experiencing from now on. The clients who come.
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