And after a few sessions chatting and flirting, the asked if I wanted to come over. I was off work that day and the wife wasn’t...so I said, “Why...not?”I was increasingly nervous as I drove over, and I wasn’t entirely reassured when I met them. He was perhaps slightly older than I was at the time – early to mid thirties - a little bit redneck, but strangely charismatic in a slightly creepy sort of way (ever see the old Brad Pitt/David Duchovny movie “Kalifornia?”). She was young -around 20 - . “Yes, my spreadsheet of our project? If you could see from there... it was not interesting.” She was nervous. Not Russian, but perhaps Greek or Eastern European?“Seriously, not judging, and I understand... I saw in the reflection, in the picture behind you.” She clicked the lid of her computer closed all the way and craned her neck up and back. Busted.“May I join you?” I didn't wait for her to answer, but took the seat at the table next to her, sitting on the bench not too far away. “Like I. More

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