I asked the bartender for another drink and indicated he was to give one to my new found friend.He offered me his hand. “My name is Charles, beautif...l lady. And who might you be?”“Rebecca, but call me Becks.”He was obviously reluctant to release my hand as he held it in a firm grip that sent a shiver up my spine.“Is there a Mr. Becks?” he asked.“Yes. However, he is six hundred miles away.”As we sat there, I shift in my chair. I move my legs, crossing them over, my right leg over my left,. The only time I ever saw my mother fully dressed was after dinner, when she would go to one of the local bars. If she was lucky, some guy would pick up her tab, and all it would cost her would be a blow job or a fuck. Most of the time, she would close her door, but once in a while, she would be so drunk that she would forget. Then I would stand in the doorway and watch; if the guys saw me, they didn't give a shit.One Friday night, she was just that drunk. I heard her take the guy into her room,. More

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