I was sitting alone at the lounge bar, having a short one before retiring to my hotel room for the evening news. I was talking a little with the bartender and listening, without a whole lot of interest, to the folk songs being delivered by a young lady sitting on a stool in the corner and strumming a bass guitar.

I went to the bathroom, leaving my cigarettes and drink at the bar. Upon my return I saw that a couple had taken two bar stools next to mine. When I sat back down at the bar, on the other side. They were holding hands, and I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, as I was in a strange city with no one of my own to play with.

The woman (whose name, I later learned, was Joan) and her husband, Alan, seemed engrossed in one another. I noticed that her very well-formed legs were not very well hidden... Read More