Chapter 2

I awakened the next morning with wine breath and a stale beer taste throughout my palate. My head was a little stuffy and I had a slight ringing noise in my right ear. Between the beer and spaghetti from last night, I'd somehow acquired a mild case of killer flatulence. I just knew I wasn't going to be particularly popular in my nest of 6 foot by 7 foot cubicles at work. I worked in customer service for a large international banking conglomerate. The customers I handled were ones who had large transactions in international currency and various types of multi-denominational EFT's. It wasn't much of a job, but when your major in college was in history, with a minor in education, well, suffice it to say that your employment prospects, outside of teaching, leave something to be desired.

After a difficult day at work, caused mostly by my need to keep constantly on the move, so that my co-workers couldn't triangulate on my noxious emissions, I was quite content to drive myself home and luxuriate in the absolute coolness of my living room. Yes, I'd forgotten to turn off my air conditioning that morning and my electric bill would probably run about $300 for the month. At least my home was 20 degrees cooler than the outside temperature. I'd just settled down at my couch with my first beer of the day when someone once again knocked on my door.

I opened my door to find Donna standing in my little entranceway all alone. I looked her over. It seemed to me that she was still dressed in the same outfit she'd been wearing last night when I'd been over for dinner with her, her sister and her mom. I invited her in and, once again, she breezed right past me and plopped herself down in my place on my large sofa. I joined her and sat down at the far opposite end of the couch. The two of us had a small staring contest, neither of us choosing to say anything. After two or three minutes, (it seemed like an hour) she finally broke the silence.

"Aren't you even going to offer me a beer?" she almost smiled as she asked the question.

"No, I can't say I approve of 16 year olds drinking beer." I replied, keeping my voice as well as my facial expression totally neutral.

"Why's that?" she wanted to know.

"Mostly because 16 year olds have no income themselves and simply mooch off the resources of hard working people like myself." I smiled a little to take some of the sting out of my words. "It is hard enough providing for my own needs without having to support other people's bad habits too."

I could tell right away she wasn't that impressed with my answer as she jumped up from the sofa, flipped me the "bird" and walked into the kitchen and grabbed herself a beer from my fridge. She popped off the cap and took a healthy swig as she returned to the living room. Setting her beer down on my coffee table, she turned her back to me, dropped her cutoffs and mooned me. I saw no sign of any panties and I noticed right away her ass was shapely and, seemingly unblemished. After staying like that for 30 seconds or so, she pulled her pants back up, refastened them, and resumed her seat on my sofa.

"What the hell do you think you were doing just now?" I asked this question in a somewhat agitated voice. Visions of my being arrested and charged with all manner of lewd and lascivious felonies floated inside my shocked and benumbed brain.

"I don't need your charity, asshole, I can pay for my own beer." Her words seemed to imply that she believed that she had somehow invented a new kind of currency and that I was supposed to tote up her reckoning and give her some change. Implicit in her statement was her assumption that her naked ass was a large denomination bill and thirty seconds of visual access represented a pretty hefty deposit into her account. I shut my eyes tightly and tried my hardest to come up with some brilliant retort. In the end, bowing to reality, I jumped up from my sofa, went to the fridge and pulled out my last three beers. I opened one for myself and set the last remaining two alongside her opened beer bottle before resuming my place at the end of the couch. She wasn't dealing with some amateur here; I had three years experience with handling multiple currencies and I was highly conversant with arbitrage in many forms. I made a mental note to hit the liquor store tomorrow on the way home from work in order to pick up at least two cases of beer. She polished off the three beers in front of her without saying another word to me. In less than an hour she stood up and walked out of my house. I took a quick shower and went right to bed. I slept well that night and don't remember dreaming.