.” I lifted my ass from the couch to permit Sasha, in response to her nonverbal request, to slide my pants slowly off, rubbing my legs sensually as ...he worked.“Eric!” Lori admonished teasingly, “French cuffs do make this so much more difficult, you know!” as she fumbled with my large gold cuff links.“But . . . but I, uh, . . . always wear French cuffs, uh, don’t lose those . . . they’re antiques . . .” I continued to halfheartedly protest, still uncertain of what exactly was happening to. I’ll zip ’round after with your gear, and give you a bit of a rundown, too…’ ‘Sounds good mate, sounds good…’ John, again. Two days passed. Not only was John’s stash depleted, he had since ground up and smoked his wooden pot-pipe, his meagre collection of gourmet herbs, a clipping of hair and some lint of questionable origin he found behind the couch. He was desperate – he was starting to have unusual and worrying thoughts, thoughts that questioned his direction in life. He picked up the phone. More

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