What my blonde had seen was a man just under average height at 5 foot 8. He carried a tad bit too much weight, had short iron gray hair and a full, sh...rt-cropped beard now turned almost pure white. The weight was distributed evenly over a square, wide shouldered frame such that while my 210 pounds was too much, it fit the nick-name given me when I was younger, ‘Fireplug.’ But what was most important was the smile I had thrown at her. Over my 6o plus years I’ve learned I can usually charm. Perhaps he really was happily married and faithful. Never mind, I consoled myself, I would frig myself senseless as soon as I was alone in my bedroom. When the taxi finally dropped us back at the Holiday Inn Paul asked if I wanted another drink. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’ I giggled. ‘Do I need to?’ my colleague asked with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘No.’ I responded bluntly and stroked his hand Paul leant forward and gently moved some stray hairs from my face and then planted a soft kiss on. More

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