I even have the telephone conversations you had with this rich Ivy League Matt guy, your fiancé….and by the way does he know about Ted…you know T...d, the guy at your apartment building who you let fuck you like a pig while you make Matt wait for you like the perfect gentleman?” “Phone sex….gotta love it huh?” “And all this time I thought you were at your desk actually working.” Pam’s shoulders dropped, as did her jaw as did any fight she may have had. Good, no anger, just resignation. Sid. ”Carson turned. “He did?”She slid him an envelope. Sure enough, it had his name on it. Carson opened it up and flipped through. A flipbook of Benjamins.“He’s definitely stacked, though,” she said. “How much did he tip you?”He showed her the stack. Her jaw dropped.“Enough for a blowjob,” said Carson victoriously.Carson flipped through the bills, counting up his earnings, when he found a tiny hand-written note at the bottom of the envelope: (917) 555-2840.“Holy shit,” said Carson.“What?” “He--he. More

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