I couldn't see into the kitchen and not even a shadow of her cast out. If she started cooking, I might risk moving. Maybe to the bedroom across from me. But she was back soon enough with a half-full bottle of vodka dangling from her right hand. She aimed for the couch, sat, and found the remote.The television flicked on and, I assumed, the DVD player. I couldn't see the screen but, from all the grunting and moaning, it was surely a porno flick. The sound covered my moves as I turned my squat into a kneel. She put her feet on the coffee table after kicking off her boots that landed in a neat clump on the floor. Then she uncapped the vodka and took a sturdy swig - a small bit trickling onto her chin. She looked around the dark apartment, and even at the closet door for a prolonged while. If I hadn't been there, I'd have considered her paranoid.She took two more quick hits from the bottle, then stood, allowing her skirt to drop to her ankles. She wasn't wearing panties, and had a most. So I spent the rest of the day and all day Saturday at the plant.Sunday I decided to goof off and take care of household chores, go for a run and stuff like that.As I was sitting, listening to some blues, that's what was fitting my mood with Red gone, I remembered her letter and the suggestion to go to the Sixth Street Bar. So I showered and changed and went there for dinner.Like last time I was sitting at the bar when Cindy walked up to me, put her arm around my shoulder and said "Hey, I didn't think you could look any sadder than last Sunday but you sure managed. Finish your dinner and then join us over there." Then very quietly "that's an order."Then at a normal level, "the price of admission to our merry group is a round of drinks, you'll want to take care of that before you come over. Jimmy knows what we want."So I finished my burger and beer, asked for another one, then pointing at the table where Cindy seemed be holding "court" "and a round for that table over there please".
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