I’d been hoping to intercept the chauffeur so he wouldn’t have to come to the door to inform us of his arrival, but Mum’s inquisition and Dad’... photos had distracted me.I grabbed the lilies, kissed Mum and Terri on the cheek then went to open the door. Dad was in the way.“It’s a tradition to spend prom night with your loved one,” he said conspiratorially, not loud enough for Mum to hear.“Dad, that’s not going to happen,” I protested.“If anything happens to change that, just text me and I’ll. Faint, almost.Luckily there was a knight in shining armour to aid me. A Damsel Gin Distress.The guy was my standin manager at the time, Gary. He was nearly 50, I think he was 48 actuallyand I was 19. He was very notably about 6 foot 4, and in a conversation the team once had about relative cock size, he had admitted his ex wife (a nasty divorce had left him pennniless through no fault of his own, some years previously) had commented that with Gary 'everything was in proportion). He had. More

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