The first week passed slowly, but it passed. The Doc came every day and looked at my chart, but didn’t say much except ask how I was and if I needed...anything. Rhonda came everyday, at least three times, to check on me, or bring my meals or medications, or sometimes just to sit and talk. That weekend, Rhonda was off, so I didn’t see her until Monday morning. I was feeling down again, because the Doc had said I had to stay in bed for another week. Staying in bed wasn’t so bad. It was just boring. “I’m surprised you found time to talk about me.”“Don’t be silly. Angie’s your sponsor. She worries about you. Anyway don’t worry. She said she wouldn’t mind if I did you now and again.”“Wouldn’t mind if you ‘did me’ now and again?”“Yes, just to release the pressure sort of. We know how you men are slaves to your appetites. She doesn’t want to; party rules and all that sort of thing. I don’t give a toss though. I can have your prick up me and not feel oppressed for one moment.”“Thanks for the. More

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