(stating the obvious)I am here on behalf of your readers. It seems you are brusing the fourth plane.And this little stunt doesn't rip the whole curtain down? Sheesh. I can't believe I was wrecking the story for them, it isn't like it was superrealistic. It isn't like they bought the damn book!Well, I think Hardcase hurt some feelings with her rant at them...Yeah, and she felt really bad about that. Actualy, believe it or not, I cut about five minutes off of her rant. She is touchy about some. You're a slut ... I have a bill to pay ... and Fred and me came to an arrangement."Gail glared at the stranger, her fingers clenching and releasing the material of her skirt. He was early 40s with a shaved head and a Fu Manchu mustache that hung past his jaw. His nose looked like it had been broken more than once having a bump at the bridge and pointing a little to the right. His eyebrows were bushy and dark curly hairs peeked from the open collar of his light blue shirt. Gail noticed he was. Now, the tradition was simple. The first time a new waitress put in an order, we’d break out the same silvery platters we used for the deluxe shrimp cocktail. On to this we’d build a tasteful garnish of kale leaves, lemon wedges, and parsley. And in the middle of the platter we’d place the ice sculpture of a cock that the mold produced. It was majestic in an alpine sort of way. It wasn’t hard to imagine gentle pasture land below the lofty heights of some an ancient glacier when you looked at. "Oh yeah." Was all I could muster. My cock remained semi-stiff inside my knickers. "Wow." Again seemed like the only appropriate comment.We continued to make our way home, and I asked with a sly smile, "Can I ask you who was the first girl you ever kissed was? I mean really kissed." Yeah, you can ask, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna answer" she shot back."Come on, please? Who? When? Where? Details, please!"I could swear I noticed her squirm. "It was Bronwen." Bronwen?! Your best friend.
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