’ She got partway to the door when the bartender raised his voice. ‘Hey, does he have a name?’ The woman turned and smiled wistfully, as if in ...emembrance. ‘Robbie. Robert. Robert . . .’ She struggled to remember his last name but couldn’t seem bring it to mind. ‘Can’t seem to remember anything these days,’ she said apologetically. ‘What with the . . .’ Her voice faded and she turned to go. ‘Wait!’ the bartender exclaimed. ‘Wait,’ he said again more gently. ‘Why don’t you write down your name. Of. After some conversation about what to do next, we found ourselves in a taxi with the whore on the way to Nana Place, the top floor where the ladybois strut their stuff. I had been there a couple of time and knew that this was on the edge of the normal. We walked in it was still reasonable early so the pace was full of girls! and guys looking to hook up. The whore sat between me and my mate and played with our crotches while my mate wife looked at the girls on the dance floor, after a few. More

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