“Me too.”It washes off. I know. I’ve had my turn. And that’s a little sub-routine that you can pull up at random moments in the lives of three...people who live to titillate one another.Those were some of the thoughts running through my head (both of them, actually) when I pulled into the driveway. Two trips each between the car and the house and we were inside, the door closed and locked behind us.We had priorities – tasks to accomplish, or at least start on, before we could shower and end up. Joyce pushed her face close to the window to try and get a glimpse at what it was. The object was small and cylindrical with a tab on its top that reminded her of the pin of a grenade. Oh gods, was he going to blow up the phone booth with her inside it?!“PLEASE please please, don’t do this! I didn’t do nothing to ‘ya, please don’t pull the pin.”The figure, silent as always, leaned down and unceremoniously pulled the pin. Joyce backed into the far corner of the booth and into a fetal position.. More

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