I screamed, aware that this was not the scream of Don Johnson, hero of the alien world; it was the scream of Don Johnson middle-aged boring man of Ear...h. It bloody hurt. Why?Why was I stabbed? A man approached, if I’d been more aware I might have seen his gait, his look, his face all suggested something not right. Perhaps I could have switched to his mental waves and realised he meant to do me harm and another chapter in the legend of Don Johnson would have been written. But I didn’t see any of. The booth was a good size and could've easily held four people. Cushioned bench seating went around two of the walls. The tv was a 48" flat screen recessed into the wall and protected by a sheet of plexiglass. When you closed the door the lights automatically dimmed. So while we decided on what movie to watch I throughly looked the booth over for any cameras, glory holes or anything that could surprise us when we didn't expect it. We finally decided on a movie, locked the door and dimmed the. More

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