” I turned towards the door but he grabbed my arm. “What do you want me to say? That I loved it? That Lauren never makes me come that hard or ever...make me feel desired? That during the ceremony, all I could think about was how your pussy tastes and how much I miss being the one to taste it? Well, now you know. I think about you all the time.” “Max, I…” I didn't know what to say either. I felt the same way, I thought about him all the time. I never wanted to admit it to myself but Max really was. .. truth is I'm over 600 years old.I'm sure you're all reasonably confused, but we'll get to the problem of my age further on, but first lets get on to more pressing matters, namely my dessert. Charlie, my date, who looks good enough to eat herself, decides she wants tiramisu, and I already told you my preference. The waitress is polite enough when she makes her way back to us, but she should have been Maude Flanders for all the loot coming her way this evening. Thinking about my dessert makes. Minutes later a car horn honked."That will be the taxi." Getting up and crossing to me she kissed me on the cheek and said, "Havea nice time, now take the coat I bought you yesterday, it's on the coatrack and here's my Chanel perfume."Spraying some on me liberally she handed me the bottle and I put it inmy bag. I crushed out the cigarette and went into the hall. Sure enoughthere was a short black on the coat rack, which she took down and helpedme on with being careful that my longer hair was. But there was no slamming of doors or anything; Max isn't like that.My supper eaten, I decided that I couldn't just sit around as if nothing had happened, so I took myself down to the working men's club where I could more or less guarantee that I'd see a few friendly faces. It is where my dad used to bring me and my brother, Eddie, on a Sunday lunchtime while mum cooked the dinner. Dad doesn't come here so often any more; not since Eddie got killed in Helmand Province. I never felt that Eddie.
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