Thank you for keeping your promise.” “Happy fingering. Good night.” “Night,” she said before disconnecting. The mystery surrounding Joan con...inued to mount. We still did not know each other’s last names. I still did not know what she did for a living. I did not know why she could call me but did not want me to call her. A mystery wrapped in an enigma. Thinking of Joan and of what was to occur the next night would make it very hard to sleep. I took a sleeping pill, actually two of those PM pills. The first conversation in the attached story is verbatim as I recall it, the rest of the story is pure fiction. I have changed the names to protect the innocent and guilty alike.Shopping’s a chore I abhor, so only I accompany my wife Penny when my work shifts allow. Although we drive for a monthly stock-up at the out of town hypermarket across the county line, and a weekly trolley-ful shop at the local supermarket, Penny walks down to the local supermarket every afternoon after work for bread,. More

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