I wonder where my friends are? Three young men sat at a bar taking shots as the nightclub slowly fills up. The bartenders are exceptionally beautiful....I think I may have tried to get one of their numbers. Three young women join us for a round of shots then we walk over to the dance floor. All of a sudden I am upstairs in the VIP lounge shouting the name of a song into a young woman’s ear. Now I am at a different club entirely, talking with a beautiful mother of two. She is saying something. Alone now as I waited for Customs to arrive, I pondered our short exchange and the extra attention we'd just given to our shared maleness. The simile of the "cock-pit" was as old as flying, but hearing it from this hot looking young charter jock stirred something inside of me.He was slightly under six feet in height, no more that 180 pounds, about 33" at the waist, and looked to be in his early twenties; but these droll specifications slipped into insignificance against the background of the. Kent leaned over me and whispered:"Ana, this thing will make you forget that asshole husband of yours…”Then I closed my eyes as I took a deep drag of that cigarette.Ten minutes later I was feeling fuzzy, when Kent offered me another drink.The combination of the alcohol and the smoke started to make the room spin a little. I felt I was going to pass out anytime.Kent told me to go outside for a little more privacy and to finish the joint.Once outside, I started to slide down, so he propped me up. ”I took a picture of Dee’s covering remarks and the ‘receipt’ on my digital camera. The receipt was in miniscule cursive Latin and very faint. I needed to process the image to produce anything readable.Back home in my tiny flat I uploaded the pictures to my computer. Dee’s remarks were easy to read. The receipt? I tried several modifications to the contrast, size and attempted to sharpen the image. As far as I could tell it was a spell to raise the dead, or if Dee was correct, to simulate.
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