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He knew when she was right about something. He sighed heavily and sat down in an armchair. ‘It was… it was horrible Lin.’ He said eventually. ‘What was horrible?’ Lindi prompted, taking a seat herself on her settee. ‘Not long before I was released there was an… incident.’ Peter began, ‘I know it sounds like the ultimate prison cliche and all, but that whole ‘don’t drop the soap in the showers’ thing is alarmingly close to the truth – or at least it was for me. There was this other inmate you see, his name was Jenks. He’d been giving me unsettling looks in the showers for days – you know those ‘mmm… mmm… I’d just love to get to know that nice squishy butt of yours a little better’ kind of look. Well, that was the look he gave me. ‘Then, one afternoon in the queue for lunch he was stood behind me and he… he put his hand… down inside my… inside my pants and he… he… groped my bum like some kind of lecherous drunkard in a terrible 1970’s comedy film.’ ‘Oh Peter!’ Lindi gasped, ‘He. I was thinking about the way she'd said, 'thousand' Her breath had prolonged the 'thou.' I started the engine and turned on the wipers. What would it take, I wondered? I drove to Carla's. The elevator was one of those outside jobs. The city spread out in epic proportions the higher I went. Carla had one of the penthouses. I had to punch in a code to reach it. She opened the door wrapped in a yellow towel and another turban style on her head. ?James, you're just in time to get drunk with me.? She smelled of expensive bath soaps. Her tits swelled at the edge of the towel holding it up with their firmness. Her alabaster legs were as if sculpted by the hands of a master, and her lips still held a trace of cherry perhaps kissed away by the lips of a devotee. We could have sat on the patio overlooking the city, but the rain was bouncing off the glistening wet tiles now. So I plopped down on a silver, plush, stretch sofa. She fixed me a Scotch, neat, and sat.
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