“Fine.” “If you write scathing reviews, nobody’s going to believe you don’t care,” he said, leaning forward to look at the screen. “I ...o care about Oracle,” I admitted. “I just don’t care about the rest.” “Oh?” He leaned back into me, turning to smile. His hair smelled good, and he knew it. He wiggled his backside a little in my lap. I was still in my slacks and shirt, but Sandy had already changed into cotton pajamas. “If you don’t care about the rest, why do you troll them so hard?”. I hung thereon tiptoe and listened to the meal I?d prepared being eaten as the hoursdragged by. Voices were almost indistinguishable. There were usually two orthree conversations going on at once. Only occasionally would there be onevoice telling a joke or giving a loud, strident opinion. Eventually, I guessaround one in the morning, people started to leave in pairs, until I could hearonly Mistress and one male voice. English, educated, confident.The CD finished and there was silenceapart from. More

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