.. Tonight has been an experience already. We've been kicking this happening around for more than a year now and we're both expecting it. I wouldn't use the word "planned" but the doubt has faded away through hours of conversation and occasional frustration. One doesn't expect to watch TV in a poorly lit hotel room for long. When she looks at me, I can feel the reservations; I can actually feel the anxiety coming off her in waves. All I can hear is the blood rushing through my ears. I want to tell her that it's okay or that we can stop - anything to get her to relax - but she already knows and she certainly isn’t the type that can be coerced. I think we both knew what was going to happen when I stopped massaging her shoulders and slid her shirt over her head. She held it there, covering herself, for a long time while I continued to knead the muscles in her back and shoulders. She's very tense but that isn't too unusual. I wonder if it’s situational. I brush her hair back from her. "What the fuck was that?" he managed to get out between fits of laughter.What could I do but laugh as well? People say the damnedest things when they're drunk, I thought. But once the levity subsided, I realized that this was, in fact, no laughing matter.As Dave retreated into a quiet stupor, I went to the phone and dialed Paul's number."Get your ass over to my place," I told him. "We got a Dave problem." Paul had obviously never been to my apartment; I gave him directions. I didn't tell him what was going on. I guess the tone of my voice induced a great deal of concern on his part, because he was knocking on our door within minutes."What happened?" Paul asked me as soon as he stepped inside. Then, he noticed Dave, who was pretty much passed out on the sofa at this point."You've gotta be kidding me," added Paul, quite alarmed by this development.There wasn't much any of us could do until Dave came around somewhat. Dennis called out for some pizza, which allowed us to pass the time.
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