She came into the house one day, the pockets of her slacks bulging, and casually began digging out bills and dumping them on the living room table."Au...e!" Kalola gasped. "You rob a bank?"Ellen shook her head. "Un-unh. Those surfers I've been getting gang-banged by got their monthly checks from their parents, and I sold 'em most of the pot and other stuff I've been holding. I got over five hundred here, and a new surfboard. Now we don't have to worry about paying the rent." Ellen," Kalola said,. “But I can't promise that I'll be any better of a cook,” I grinned. His apartment was tasteful, the furniture an eclectic mix of leather and hard wood frames with plush cushions. Very masculine. There was a large cabinet filled with glasses and various bottles of imported alcohol. He saw me notice it. “Can I fix you something?” he asked. “Another beer? Cider? Hot cocoa? I've got practically everything.” I said yes to the cocoa. We went to work in the kitchen, where his previous efforts were. More

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