by Mike Berger
Traffic was fierce. I was running late;
the Bell hop gave me a wink as I
took the elevator. I had the usual
room, paid by the company.
The john was a squatty aerospace
engineer. The service had checked
him out. He was a negotiator on
a multimillion dollar contract.
He was shy even embarrassed. He
was unconscious of his wedding ring.
He twisted it a dozen times. I must
admit he wasn't much of a lover. Out
of the room I put on my wedding band.
This was my Thursday ritual; leaving
the kids with my husband and heading
out to my "art class". For an hour's work
the pay was great.
I stopped in the bar for a drink. I needed
to unwind. Then I was hit on by a good
looking guy. What is this world coming to;
he could easily see I was wearing a
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