Over drinks, an ex-girlfriend requests a sex tape.
Chris found a spot at the tall table in his #1 bar. Their number one bar. In any event, it had been. He was trusting that Lydia will show up. A USB drive sat in his pocket, fit to be given over. It felt curiously weighty. He prevailed upon himself that it was all mental. That didn't make it any harder to bear. Everything revolved around the end. Four years down the channel. And all in view of an idiotic slip-up. He'd been a flat out fucking moron and shown his poop hole companion what he and Lydia had made together. At that point, he'd thought it had been entertaining. At the point when he awakened the following day, lament swam in his veins. Despite the fact that, it didn't prevent him from jolting off to it once more. It had turned into a wake-up routine when Lydia wasn't there. He gulped the remainder of his lager round in the glass, then thumped it back in one last swallow. At the point when he put the unfilled vessel down on the table, Lydia remained at the ent...