"This is Mr. Jameson he is my guest here. Fetch a sherry for me and abeer for my guest."It was the same man who had diner the week previous. But this...time, whenI went to escort them to dinner, he already had his hand inside mywife's blouse. Otherwise everything went like clockwork until theydecided to have brandies served in the bedroom. I was deliberately alittle tardy with them so that by the time I knocked on her door, theywere already in the throes of sex. In spite of that, or. "Yeah." How is she?" Fine I suppose." It's not the same anymore is it?" No." I said, and I couldn't help it, I was starting to cry.Can't get used to losing youThat feeling of rejection after the indifference of Lisa's response didn't go away. I was, I suppose, the epitome of a hopeless romantic (although I preferred "new romantic" as the term then was), offering more melodrama than a Bette Davis movie and moping round the house like a fart in a trance.I questioned being Suzanne at all. After. More

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