“Well, that sounds an awful lot like blackmail, doesn’t it?” I uttered. She looked at me, and her red face broke into a big smile. “I don’... know about all this,” I said. “For starters, it would be almost impossible to get the opportunity to be together,” I lamented, as I pulled into the crowded parking lot.“No,” she corrected me, “not at your house, I mean here, right now. “Right here in my van?” I asked, incredulously. “Why not? It has a soft rug, and it’s completely private,” she. We arrived and I found a safe place to park, out of sight of the road and we walked up the dune to the party.Things were really moving. There must have been twenty people there and there was a small garbage can with what someone said was purple passion, a mixture of grape juice and pure grain liquor, about 150 proof. I took one swig and it burned all the way down. All I could say was, good, in a very hoarse voice. Marge refused to drink and said she would keep and eye on me so that I didn't get. More

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