Why wasn't she at the bank?"It's Saturday, Hugh," she said, reading my mind effortlessly.Saturday? Mary had flown in on a Monday and this was Saturday... What had happened to the week?"You've been drinking yourself into a stupor for most of the week," she said, again reading my mind."Why, Gail? Why all this?"I gestured to the room around me. I knew where I was. I was in the Hunt estate's main house, a 20-room Shangri-La that had been started and mostly finished by her grandfather. I had been here. Her ankle was rubbing up and down my shin. I didn’t take so long to understand this time though and pretty soon I was kneeling on her seat as she gave me a blow job. After it was over there wasn’t much talk and I can’t even remember saying bye to her as we parted ways. The fourth time was on a plane, not a train. It was about 1994 and I was flying London to New York to go and see Eric Clapton at Madison Square Gardens. This time I was not on my own as I had my 10 year old son with me and it was. More

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