When I got back to the poker area I again passed by the masseuse. "Hi, good looking." Again with a smile. "Hi." "Do you want a massage?" I had to wait...a bit for a seat. "Sure. That would be great." I sat down with my chest against the pad she had against the seat back and she went to work on me. After a minute or two I could feel her breath on my neck as she kneaded my muscles."Does this feel good?" "My nipples are hard." I replied jokingly.She chuckled and I felt her hands trace their way down. Hopkins was a shallow, thin man, lost in a tweed jacket. He was in his early sixties. He had a full beard of salt and pepper whiskers that descended to his chin at a point. His head had less hair, just a thin ring of grey. His eyes were sad and sunken. ‘Win some, lose some, Arthur,’ Paul said. He would have admitted to a tinge of smugness in his tone, and would have also admitted that he didn’t care, either. ‘The people and the planet have lost. I am only their servant,’ Hopkins answered. Paul. More

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