"Gimme a few minutes," he says, and slides down the bar to where the blonde is sitting. I can see them talking. After a bit, Joe waves for me to come ...n over."This here's Flossie," Joe says. "Flossie, this here's my good buddy Dick." (My name isn't Dick. Joe is always planning ahead.) "Dick and Roger go way back, right Dick?." (So now his name is Roger. For that matter, like her name is really Flossie?)Up close I can smell the beer on her breath. She's a little ripe. But shit, Joe and I have. And I don’t mean weird like weird; I mean weird like a total psychotic junkyard dog. She would talk to me, but not touch me. She would stare right at me, talk about studying some more, flirting, suggesting constantly that we should see each other again, but whenever I called she would breath heavily into the phone and hang up. What the fuck, right? Or She would touch me, but not talk to me. She’d run her hands along the back of my neck, put wet finger tips on my arms, or even grab at my. More

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