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Saw the whore, again. Whore didn’t see me. Told her last week, not here. Probably stopped for a few days. Look in her eye, she was scared. Money is money, though. Fear doesn’t pay the pimp. Fear doesn’t buy the drugs. Bruise on her chin–four or five days old. Tried to cover up the yellowing with make-up. Didn’t work. Probably told pimp she wasn’t going back out, after our talk. Pimp probably showed her why that was a bad idea. Looks pretty nervous–keeps looking at the dark places. Must’ve. She looked more like a hippie than someone from Old England, but it was a last-minute costume choice. The dress did not fit too well. It had a wide and low-cut neckline and the dress was a bit too large for her. She pinned it in several places to keep it on and went to the festival. I did not see her in it prior to my arrival to the event.I walked around and saw all the kids having a nice time. It was late afternoon and the weather was perfect. I looked for my wife’s booth and saw several men. Heel to toe. His back was straight, his arms hungat his side, and he could have balanced a book on his head. His stepswere careful and deliberate, and Professor Chase could tell he wasconcentrating. She couldn't have been more pleased. All in all, Bradwas looking more and more fawn-like with his movements. He approachedthe Professor's desk and smoothed out his skirt as he sat downgracefully, crossing his legs, and folding his hands in his lap."Very good, Miss Dowdy," Professor Chase said,. What exactly do you mean by that?" he asked rhetorically. If he could have seen her face he would have noticed Missy was blushing as she struggled to both find the words and also find the fastener of her dress, "Could you unzip me, please. I really must get this ol' dress to the dry cleaners. It's looking a little shabby, don't you think?" she stammered not quite knowing how to explain to him how events had gotten away from their original intentions."Don't be changing the subject. You tell me.
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