Impotence ... suffering ... loss ... sorrow ... hate. The feelings boiled in him as he sat brooding in his office."Who am I supposed to hate?" he aske... himself, almost out loud. "Surely, not Glenda."He regarded Hopkins as worthy of hate, but too small a man to earn it.People often told Paul that he 'thought too much', but sometimes it worked for him.By the time he finished his meditation is was nearly six-thirty. There was a knock on the door and Marge stepped in and closed the door behind. The room was warm, inviting and had a musky aroma. Weed, perfume and cum. We didn't even get across the room when I got his text asking if that was us on the top floor with her hair. We laughed and he said he was on his way up. When you go into the room with a hooker it is a funny place to be. It is exciting, exlerating, lustful and dark. It is stressful and durty lust. There is always the underlaying idea that this is a setup or you're going to get some fucked up STD. But God it is. More

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