The cars I had lined up looked as if they had been just tossed in the air and were yards from where they had been, some even halfway up trees.Marjorie...s car had a big dent in the rear driver's passenger side and the window was smashed. It must have had some protection from the car alongside it. But where that was I had no idea.The truck was also on its side with a tree limb buried into the cab. The only thing not damaged was the trailer. It was still standing in its original spot.The old. "We don't call the fucking governor's wife in for an interview!" Hildebrand had choked. "You get your ass over to Albany and talk to her! And you'd better fucking salute the fucking flag pole in front of the fucking mansion when you get there!" Gosh," said Harper, trying to look mournful. "I'd be happy to do that, Captain, except that she said she'd be happy to come see us. She'll be here at ten, tomorrow morning." You actually fucking talked to Mrs. Custer her fucking SELF?" Hildebrand looked. " "I was drawn to you as well." she replied, "There was something in your eyes and your smile that attracted me." Now we were close to each other, fingers gently caressing hands on the table as soft music swirled seductively about us. Thank goodness it was New Orleans and 1997, where a white man and a black woman quietly becoming intimate with each other are less likely to draw intolerant stares and ignorant remarks. "May I kiss you?" I asked, as our hinted intimacies grew bolder. "Uhhmm,. I recall a couple times where I took huge risks of getting caught pink-handed, but the thrill of the moment always seemed to outweigh the risks. We were in high school, on a bus heading towards a marching band competition. Robin and I were fooling around on the bench seat, and since we were sharing a blanket to 'keep warm' no one was the wiser. No one, that is, until Robin's Mom, who was chaperone on the bus, called out from her seat in the front of the bus and asked why she couldn't see.
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