'Did that feel good?  The nipple?'<br/><br/>He was having a moment: Al.  Did every man have it?  Just on the threshhold of getting what he - what they - wanted, he felt like walking away.<br/><br/>No, no.<br/><br/>'Hey guys, I just gotta, gotta...'<br/><br/>He gestured.  He was already on his way to the rest room.  He knew what he needed.<br/><br/>But then he turned.  He didn't want the other guys to think he was chicken or anything.  'Let's start on their tits, guys!' he called.<br/><br/>Hey, hey, bravado.  Just saying it made him feel better.  And he heard a strangled woman's cry, as he made it to the cubicle, as he placed the little shard of mirror on top of the cistern and opened up the little packet of tinfoil, and sliced himself a little slice of joy, any moment now he would feel better, better, hey maybe the jagged little shard of mirror would go nicely against a sensitive nipple...