“Have you heard that I do things?” She asked innocently. “There was a note that came with the photos. It was an anonymous note. But it was full of information about how you …have private dance parties for boys. You do things with them.” Monica smiled. “Really? So what kind of things do I do with boys?” Houlihan wasn’t smiling. “What do you do with boys?” “That’s kind of private, don’t you think?” “Yes, but so are these pictures.” “I sell them. Or did. I thought it would be a great money-making thing, but the guys just made copies of them. Making money off of photographs is hard, because unless you charge a bunch up front, you never see your money’s worth. People make copies on their printers at home, or they scan them in and put them on disk, then take them to the drugstore and make copies. I’m not ashamed of the photos, but I’m kinda upset that I can’t make more money with them. And yeah, I do the private dances. That’s something you need to do in person. They’ll never outsource. I took her in my arms, smiling widely then, and we started dancing to Patsy Cline singing Crazy. I liked the old, slow stuff Mike usually had on. Mike owned the place and also filled the hats of bar tender, dish washer, waiter and general ass kicker when needed. He was big and tough. I knew the whole tape and The Platters were next with Only You. Hell, I am 71. Plus you can hold them closer with the slow ones. She put her head on my shoulder and said softly, "I like being touched." When she said that, a very bright light went on in my mind and that water-bed scene I'd imagined became a lot clearer. Her under me, me slamming into her with her legs around my neck and the bed sloshing, riding the waves. It is a full-motion mattress and I loved it. I started pushing my right hand down from her waist to her ass. She wiggled it a little and I grabbed and squeezed it, moving my hand around. She had a nice ass and I was thinking I might get in there before the night was over. I ran a finger.
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