"Good evening Bob, nice to see that you're still standing." I'm... I'm... very fine and go fuck yourself very much."Hi Professor." It was Brian speaki...g and although he only sounded a little mellow I could see that he was holding onto the table so he didn't list to one side."Good evening Mr. Assistant Editor, good to see you too." Why the hell... hic... do they call you The Professor Sam?"It was the last of the drinking triad, Lisa, asking the question. Actually all the guys in the newsroom. She enjoyed dancing. She knew what her body did to men. She had learned early enough what it did to her father. Like magic, dollar bills began appearing on the rail. Sharon let her mind drift, as she often did, seeming to take her body to autopilot. She scanned the faces in the crowd as she crawled, panther-like across the stage. The same faces in every town. Red-faced farmers. Unshaven factory workers. The bleary eyed husbands wishing they didn’t have to go home to their fat, bitchy wives.. More

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