"I can't go back to New York this weekend. You know that we're supposed to fly out to Tapato," I said."What ... how did ... oh, yeah, you can read my ...ind," he muttered absently. Then, "Well, I'm sorry about your trip. You'll just have to push it back a day or so. The Princess and her party are flying home on Sunday, then you can go." But we've already bought almost fifty tickets out of Albuquerque," I whined. While it wasn't exactly true, I had made arrangements for a special charter to handle. We went where he wanted to go, watched whatever movies he wanted to see. We spent a lot of time in my basement wrestling. I took pride in the minute or two that I held my own with him. But eventually I would tire and he would twist me like a pretzel into odd contortions, designed always for the big squeeze. I would wiggle and squirm helplessly while he teased me with little whispered insults. He would ask me if it was tight enough. "No?" he'd say, "Here, have some more." It was a game in which. More

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