On the Friday night at the local pub/social centre when he approached me on the dance floor, alongside my husband, I immediately gauged his needy inte...t albeit that he was at least pretending to be shy. As we danced he took every chance to touch and hold me. At one point as we stood listening to an announcement from the stage I clearly felt the light touch of his hand on my back running down to my bottom where he tried to trace the gap between it's cheeks, another time as we danced his hand. ‘Hi Mike. How you doing tonight?’ startled me a bit when I was traying up some Italian loaves. The voice was high and familiar. It was Marsha, the overnight clerk. She was attractive in the non-traditional way. She wasn’t pretty, really, but she wasn’t ugly. She was pretty average all around, except she was half Cherokee and it showed in her skin color. ‘I’m good, Marsha. Same shit, different night, ya know?’ ‘Yeah, same here. Whacha makin?’ ‘This?’ holding up a long, white, doughy roll of. More

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