Charlette appeared to like what she saw, though he did lose track as to how many images she was choosing for her own use.  “Not gonna keep any for yourself?” she teasingly asked.  “Um. . . “ he stammered.<br/><br/>What’sa matter, Old Man?  Cat got your tongue?<br/><br/>“Well, uh,” Paul continued to stall.  “I figure these are yours and I look at them as private.  Especially with the visual content,” he said with a nervous chuckle.<br/><br/>Oh, that’s rich, Old Man.  That’s rich.<br/><br/>And then she mentioned Dave.  His loss?  More like, his Big-Time-Fucking-Fantabulous-Unreal Loss!  Paul grinned at the thought, and wondered if Dave even made the effort to look at her, at the very least.<br/><br/>FINALLY concealing her voluptuous figure, she inquired about heading home.  A bob of his head in agreement, and Paul said, “Sounds good.  You can feel the change in temperature, too.”  Gathering their belongings, they turned to retrace their steps along the route back to the parking lot.<br/><br/>Along the way, Paul’s phone vibrated, alerting him to an incoming text message.  Okay, he thought, that definitely felt like it came from a left-side pocket.  Which pocket, however, remained a mystery.