Territory, you haven’t forgotten my rule of thumb, right? has got to be defended at the goddamn frontier. Which is why I wasn’t about to let L. Falk get away with a remark like that.
“Where do you come off saying I planned the whole thing?” I shot back. “You’re listed on the masthead as a consenting adult.”
Talk about a feeble defense. “I consented to try your dope,” is what he mumbled. “I did not consent to what came after.”
“You didn’t say not, neither. You didn’t push her away.”
“I did not want to be rude. I did not want to hurt her feelings.”
I was, I openly admit it, getting hot under the collar even though I wasn’t wearing a collar. I was bare-assed, as they say in Backwater, nude, as they say in movie land. In the bathtub. Having a morning-after-the-nig
