. well... fukin' lonely. believe me, i can tell...so i softly stomped over to him (fukin' towering over him a at least a foot) and sweetly asked what ...e was up to."just trying to stop sweating!" he was truly indeed pouring the sweat."it can be fukin' steamy back here..." my double entendre was TOTALLY wasted... he kept looking in his booth. so i leaned in and looked in too. there it was: a "keg" cup shoved into the glory hole; the sure sign of sex encounter disinterest."oh," i backed away,. Mom poured everyone a glass of red wine. It was the first alcohol that our parents had served Emily and me. We weren’t twenty-one yet, but I guess Mom figured that if we were old enough to fuck with the family, we were old enough to drink with it.The conversation that followed was supremely weird. I don’t remember what anyone said, but it was all just small talk. No one mentioned the events of last night or what we’d all come here to do tonight. It was just like an ordinary family get together,. More

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