Tony’s posture slackened. He sipped his coffee and muttered, “Dreams, hmmm,” and fell silent, scratching his head, glancing around the room furt...vely. A few flakes of dandruff fell softly from his scalp, like tiny snowflakes.“Did you have any disturbing dreams last night?” I asked, covering my mouth while I chewed on an apple slice.“Well, actually, I did,” he said, speaking in a low, scratchy voice, “I had a wacky, wild one ... I was in the Cultural Revolution and was wearing a dunce cap and my. But we shouldn’t do this Becky.” “Why not? What’s wrong with you anyway, you sound sort of different?”“That’s because I’m here in my house with a teenage girl and we are talking about porn films and I’ve got a raging hard on and it’s damned uncomfortable!” he blurted and by then I was too amused to keep from laughing and I just burst out with the idea of him trying to control his ‘raging hard on’ as he called it.“Oh come on Alan, now that we are nearly there can’t we just watch one? Please?” I. More

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