’ ‘Figured that. What? Does the couch look too comfortable? Like maybe you’d be afraid I’d get you in a position you couldn’t recover from t...o easily?’ I collapsed onto the chair, vaguely relieved that it was a chair, and a not too comfortable one at that. Nothing much could happen there. At least those were my thoughts as I got ready to accept a lap dance from a young woman about my daughters’ age. I pulled a hundred out of my wallet and laid it on the small table next to the chair. ‘Candy’. He smelled it. It was black, strong, bitter coffee that he sipped at slowly. She smiled gently at his expression and brushed over some sugar and cream thoughtfully so like her mother. First one packet, then two. He stirred itidly watching the dance floor slowly thin out at a slow dance. He lifted the hot cup to his lips and drank the entire contents of the cup in three swallows. Bitter coffee. That happened in the city when the pipes were old. Copper pipes. Sugar & cream on a table in a dance. More

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