32I unlocked my car and was about to start the engine when a Porsche pulled into the parking lot and a sleek-looking fellow, who greatly resembled Eric Schwilden, climbed out. He didn't glance in my direction but I'm sure I recognized the suit, the hair, the cocky swaggering gait as he disappeared inside the studio. Typical of him, he took up two parking spots. Thoughtfully, I started the engine, then drove slowly away.
I felt elated and a bit dirty at the same time. I couldn't get over the feeling I'd prostituted myself. As if I needed or wanted more time commitments. At this rate, I'd never get either book finished nor attain the peace and tranquillity I sought. My loafability quotient dropped daily. I'd been seduced by the money, I admit. The money would bail out the magazine and put u
