So, earlier this evening -- around nine -- I pulled my car into the strip club's parking lot to fulfill my side of the arrangement. Sure enough, there...was Danny, standing next to his pick-up truck, a shit-eating grin on his face."What are you smiling at? What's going on with Stewart in there?" Don't worry about sweet Stewie. He's getting nothing in there but blue balls. Seems to be enjoying the show, though, despite your image of him as Mr. Perfect. Are you dressed for success?" I said I would. Mother always told me I had a mouth on me. I clambered over the gate. A sharp pain jolted through my leg. She also told me I was clumsy as hell. Blood swelled from the small wound, but I ignored it the best I could and kept running. A large gloomy looking mausoleum loomed in front of me. I dashed to it and tried to open on the door. I noticed the bolt too late. ‘Shit.’ I kicked the door hoping it would give. Instead I bashed my toes. I heard his footsteps drawing closer to where I was. I. More

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