Here on New Year’s Eve, dateless in some dump of a bar, he couldn’t help but think he’d lost whatever head-butting contest he and Greg had going...on. All the jewelry and gifts, romantic dinners and overtures, all of it had counted for exactly shit. He wasn’t a drinker, hadn’t ever been drunk in his life, but goddamnit, he was ready to tie one on and call an end to this bullshit year. Even the solace of that self-pitying thought was interrupted, however, by the ringing of his cell. “Hey,. “What?” I reply, somewhat surprised by his request. “Take off your clothes,” he repeats. “I’m not going to ask again.” I sit in silence for a moment, contemplating the risk. It isn’t dark really, and there are other cars on the road, and we are passing by the occasional house. This isn’t a real rural, isolated area. I don’t mind showing my body, obviously, but I don't make a practice of walking, or driving, around with my tits hanging out for others to see. This site is more of an escape for. More

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