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It was a strange conversation. Abby seemed to know exactly what I was talking about, but every time I mentioned Brazil, she got their weird look on her face, and got all quiet. I just assumed she wasn't wanting to give me too much info on where she lived, or what not. After about ten minutes, we were well out of range of the hustle and bustle, and I could tell we were heading back towards the ocean. The land had this sort of tilt to it, and I could see the blue past all of everything. I wondered if Abby knew of a small locality, a mom and pop place, so to speak.We walked down a short shabby cobble stone street, turned a corner, and started walking down a grassy path, down towards a sandy drop off type of beach. Abby seemed to know the way, so I continued to follow her, and after another minute or so, I realized we were much further down the beach than I had been before. I walked a bit out into the sand, and looked to my right. A long distance off was the section of beach where Taylor. For the last several days, I had been having fantasies about that Larissa, while I masturbated, not caring much about Larissa’s very ordinary sex problems. I wished I could taken Larissa to bed myself that day. The guy, who knew none of this, joined me in lamenting the incredible irresponsibility of some other imaginary person named Larissa. He wanted me to cheer up fast because he did not want a scene at the bar. Soothingly, his expression softening, he put his other hand on my other leg, also on skin. ‘It’s ok! Look, I’ll give you cab fare to get home – don’t worry. I know what it’s like to be short at the end of the month! I’ve been there.’ I choked up with gratitude (but did not make a scene) and soon we were off to the elevator, the bar tab paid in cash to keep it off his hotel bill, which would go to accounting when he got back. While we were walking down the corridor, I stopped for a moment to take off my shoes in order to get ‘more comfortable’, which I did while standing.
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