" I brushed my thumbs across the back of her hands. "I'm sorry that I'm not him." She smiled warmly, "Don't get me wrong, I miss him, but I'm not sorr... you're not him." I didn't respond, but blushed and lowered my eyes. We sat silently for a few minutes, holding hands. Finally, she slowly withdrew her hands. When I looked up, she had folded them in her lap, her expression flat and difficult to read. I looked at her questioningly. "This is where the story gets harder to tell and I understand. " Her Thai name was Rasri. She was about 50 years old, short and stout and unmarried. She adored Steve – and she was jealous. He gave her weekends off and bought her bus tickets to her parent's house in the country because he didn't want her around when he brought his bargirls home with him. He had a guilty conscience. I stayed at Steve's house only Friday and Saturday nights so I didn't see much of Lassie. That was fortunate because I was a competitor in her eyes and she ignored me most of the. More

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