Last Word, Memoirs

The Date of the Jackal


A found R fascinating. She, R, liked Jethro Tull. A’s tastes were more Donna Summer’s gasping, moaning, sex-drenched disco. But R was friendly, liked A’s company and a movie or two together ensued. One day, I was asked if I wanted to accompany them, in my usual role of chaperone for the Other Girl. Yes,… Continue reading The Date of the Jackal