The music, however, was a cut above normal. “Who are these guys?” she asked Angelo, that evening’s head-barman. “The Devil’s Rejects,” he...called above the din. “Pretty hot!” She poured frothing glasses of beer. “What, all of them?” “The music, dummy!” She grinned and returned to her job —serving drinks and deflecting the attentions of college boys. A college junior herself she had no time for their retarded come-ons. Or for the posturing of rock-star wannabees. These Rejects were a pretty. She wassmaller than me, so her clothes couldn't fit me, could they?So given the benefit of hindsight I cannot explain why I didn't askmyself why it appeared that I could fit into all of Rita's clothes that Ihad so far put on nor did I ask myself whether there was not the faintestpossibility that the clothes she was about to offer me would also fit me.I wanted to avoid the embarrassment of having to spend the rest of theevening in a miniskirt."Agreed," I replied, stepping towards the. More

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