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.. so I did."I'd like to find out what's going on gentlemen, I vote for a little men's room persuasion." Then let's do it," said Pete.The stranger had just glanced over his shoulder in our direction as we all started walking toward him. He tried to make a run for it but Big John was on him before the guy got three steps from his stool. We dragged him into the washroom to, 'talk.' At first he denied drugging my drink, then Big John cracked his knuckles and the guy started singing like a canary.It seemed the drug was phenobarbital; when taken with alcohol a person tends to get dizzy and sleepy making the person look very much like he's had too much to drink. My new chum was supposed to watch me and I when I started to exhibit those effects he was going to waltz me out to my car where my old friend Irv Peterson was waiting; it seemed Irv was bent on that revenge he promised. Between the two of them I would have been toast."What do you want to do, Dalton, call the cops?" Pete asked me.I. Mom signed in with the receptionist,and we sat down to wait; I'd brought _Howl's Moving Castle_ with me,but on a whim, I picked up a women's magazine from one of the tables inthe waiting room. Mom and Sophia didn't subscribe to anything like that.I only got halfway through an article on makeup tips before a door openedand a woman with reddish-blonde hair a little older than Mom stepped out."Erin and Tyler Ramsey?" she asked, looking around. There were only acouple of other people in the waiting room.Mom said, "That's us." I'll see Tyler first, then you," the woman said. "Then both of youtogether. Was your husband not able to make it?" He'll be here soon." Okay."So I followed her apprehensively back down a short corridor and intoher office. There were an assortment of more or less comfortable piecesof furniture, but nothing like a stereotypical psychoanalyst's couch --not that I'd expected one, since Mom had described her as a counselor,not a psychologist or psychiatrist."Have a.
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It is a word to show respect and authority. But she said, “My Sir.” I leaned against the kitchen island after crossing my arms and watched her. After she took a bite of the breadstick, she turned and faced me. A little cheese had decided to take refuge on her chin. I walked over to her, raised my hand, and wiped the cheese off of her chin with my thumb. My eyes never left hers. I needed to find out how far she wanted to take the “Sir” statement.“The cheese must be mad at me,” I said in a low husky voice then licked the cheese off of my thumb. “Mad at you?” When I had stepped over I made sure we had very little room between us. I wanted to be close to her, I needed to be close. With my other arm, I reached around her and grabbed a breadstick for myself and then stepped back to lean against the kitchen island. I folded my arms and placed the breadstick near my mouth, then aimed it towards her.“Yes, mad. It was close to your lips and I just took it away,” I said with a.

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