Her elation had turned to horror, however, as Whiting had explained the welfare reform. No money of any kind? Vouchers for food, housing, and clothing... What kind of shit was that? That wasn't fair! There was no way the people of Mars would stand for that, was there?She went to bed that night convinced that the press would crucify Whiting the next morning, that popular outrage would quickly overturn this fascist edict. In this she was partially right. There were many questions about her. At the bottom, in brackets, it said "I'm single". I took it and said goodbye.When we did meet at her house, it was early evening. She could have changed, but I think she fully understood my fantasy fetish. She was still wearing a black skirt and a white blouse. It was a bit weird because my fantasy really only existed in the context of the library. She said she had a bottle of Jamesons whisky and would I like one, becase she certainly wanted one. I agreed. While preparing the glasses, she bent. More

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