You sorry, Mike?” I asked. “Or you just sorry it was me...?” I asked, afraid of getting the wrong answer. “How can you think that?” he said,...rolling onto his side and reaching over to hug me. “Nic.. I really love you... I really mean it, I... Oh Jesus, yuk...” In reaching across to hug me he had put his forearm right across my belly where it got covered in his warm, sticky semen. He reacted as if he had been burned by the gooey stuff and we both burst out laughing - excessively as if delighted. "It's just that your throat sounds like it's a little dry," Frank observed.Jason didn't answer this time. He sat motionless, arms crossed, in the leather chair. Frank thought that his blotchy forehead appeared damp, despite the air conditioning."Fishman," Frank said."Huh?" Lowell grunted."His name is Aaron Fishman," Frank repeated. "It wouldn't normally be important for you to remember that, but since you'll be working so closely together over the next few days, I'd thought you'd want to know. More

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