In the week before I had sex with Carolyn, Christina and I went everywhere. James chauffeured us anywhere we wanted to go. Something that I had never experienced, with me being a recluse in my house in the way of a poor version of Howard Hughes, we were always out and never home.With me without clothes but for my suit that I wore to the symphony, Christina spoiled me by outfitting me with a complete wardrobe of expensive clothes. She took me to Brooks Brothers and to Ralph Lauren. From suits, to shirts, to jeans, to sweatshirts, to jackets, to coats, to overcoats, to shoes, to ties, and to hats, she bought me everything.Oddly enough, comparing parallels between the two, our sudden sexual adventure reminded me of the movie, The Witches of Eastwick. Instead of being driven around in a 1972 Mercedes-Benz 600 Pullman, as if James was my imagined version of Fidel, and with him nearly as tall, he chauffeured us about in an equally expensive two-tone gold over black, Mercedes-Maybach 62. A
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