Each smiled and waved, some calling a greeting as they drove past on their own golf carts. There wasn’t any pressure for people to do anything they ...idn’t want to do. There was no sexual charge either. Places like South Beach in Miami or Spring Break in Panama City had a sexual charge so thick it would fry most electronics. Not this place. With the exception of the lack of clothing, the people acted like ordinary people. The place was nice, not stuffy and snooty like an all inclusive resort. I was assigned to a department that was trying crack down on the rampant black-market racket which was thriving in that economy. I worked in the evidence room documenting and storing the confis**ted merchandise, it was boring but it was better than being in a fox-hole somewhere. In March of that year they busted a ring selling silk-stockings. I had to count them in and itemize them in triplicate, of course. There were 1001 pairs. I decided to slip one pair in my tunic for Mrs Shaw as a treat,. I made a counter offer accepting the dog at some point in future, but she refused. You can’t say I didn’t try to work it out. So we agreed to go our separate ways. She asked me if it would be okay if she called me if she got horny. It made me feel like I was just a sexual object to her. Like I was being used, like our once passion for one another had somehow degraded to just cheap sex. Of course I told her that would be just fine, which brings me back to Barbara.The next day I called her at her. " Something wrong?" Ellen asked."Nope. Not a thing." He went to grab Betsy, who reached our her arms to him and gurgled happily. "At least you're happy to see me," he said softly-but Ellen heard him. He took Betsy outside, put her in her stroller, and headed down the street.It was just about then that light finally dawned over Jessie. "Oh shit!" she exclaimed, sitting up. "Soph! Stop!" Sophie looked up from between Jessie's legs. "We've got a problem. Dammit, we just did it. What I was afraid.
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