we are in his apt....a decent enough place....what did he say he did? "That's me and Caroline Kennedy," he says pointing at a picture on the wall of her, many years ago, with a man who may have been him 35 years ago. Currently he....how can I be kind? I ....his face reminds me of a Picasso painting, split in half. "I used to screw her," he says. My mother met her, as well. I'm thinking how ironic it is, how few degrees of separation are between three or four people.
On and on. "I cum...I cum....uh....I gonna cum......" he must have drunk an entire bottle of vodka. "I gonna cum...." it's getting harder and harder to be civil.
Ok, this isn't nice......I finally jumped up, threw on my panties and clothes....I don't remember what I said....."Sorry but I have to go....." I'm thinking he could attack me too. There's the door, I'm thinking. Run.
And I do. I get to the door, open it, and get out. Step number one. Down the stairs. It must be....six flights? An endless spiral down, down, it doesn't end. I look up to see if he's behind me. No. I'm getting out, I think. I'm getting out. I'm getting out. The stairs go on forever, it seems.
Then there's the door. I run to the door, open it, and there's the street. Freedom. I was lucky with this one.
I go into a bar....what am I doing? I need a drink or something.
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