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That's all I can say.I had a couple of drinks, and a small salad. We talked about old friends and old times. We flirted, of course. We'd always flirted. We talked about our marriages, our jobs, our new lives. He looked really good. He still had the head of thick black hair, and I could see that he had kept himself in shape. The thought that we'd end up in bed that afternoon didn't even cross my mind.“So, what are you working on now?” I'd asked him.That was the moment of my destruction, although I wouldn't know that for awhile.“I'm shopping a novel around,” he told me. “I want a signed copy when it's published,” I said.“Would you like to see it?” he asked. “I've got it on my laptop.” I could have asked him to send me a copy, of course. I didn't have time to read a novel in an afternoon. He knew that as well as I did. “I'd love to see it,” I said. “Do you have it with you?”“It's in my room,” he said.Of course it was. Nobody takes their laptop to the bar with them. It would have to be. It was empty. She was right. None of this made any sense. Maxamed knew he would have to ask around the community to see what others knew of these strange things. He took the empty rag and tossed it in his neighbor’s curbside garbage can and walked back into the house. “How are you feeling, Khadra?”“I am tired, husband. Might I have some quiet time to rest in our bedroom?” She turned and walked toward the bedroom without waiting for his reply.“Of course, I will not disturb you.” He needed her to regain her strength. There was so much strangeness surrounding them now, it was hard to tell if things would finally quiet down. This job seemed hardly worth the work George Anderson had promised to do on their house.When Khadra closed and locked the door to her bedroom, she was not surprised to see that giant black dildo waiting for her on the neatly made bed. “Even if I wanted to use you, I am too sore from my time with that boy,” she whispered to the thing. “And I do not want to use you at.
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