We have nothing in common, I'm a married, rugged, working class white guy on the 8th floor. Years ago, Bobbi nearly drove me crazy with the flirting, ...he sexual invitations and the never ending perverted text messages. I'd explain to him I'm not gay, not lacking sexual gratification and not into some queer love relationship. Bobbi demanded negotiations and eventually these were the rules I made (and Bobbi agreed to) if there was to be any sex. He insisted he just wanted to be fucked, he needed. She had only spoken to this young man a single time when she was practicing the night before and he pretended that he needed to vacuum her practice room. He was treating her as though she was an object of interest. She didn’t believe that she merited it. She felt a little uncomfortable in the role. ‘I bought something for us.’ He reached inside his jacket pocket. She began to utter an objection, but he was too fast. Flourishing his hand from jacket, a small manila envelope attached, he blurted. More

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