'An old girl like me remembers old tricks Iguess,' I thought, almost breaking into a smile despite the helplessnessof my situation.'Carmel; you might ...e a prison brothel madam and fag-hag but sometimesyour blood's worth bottling!' I thought to myself when I saw the tell-tale rectangular bulge in one of the side pockets of the carry-bag. Iunzipped the pocket and smiled with pathetic glee as I reached in andpulled out a packet of Marlboro's and a plastic Bic lighter. I hadkicked most of my bad. "Yes and you must be," she interrupted, "Samaria, that's right."I stood up and pulled back the chair, "Please sit down," I mumbled." Shelaught again it was such a contagious and beautiful laugh, for the restof the evening I felt I was walking on the clouds, we had so much incommon and when we were talking her eyes were always connected to mine.She, Samaria, worked in a bank, was 25 years old, had long black hair andwas dressed in a modern Weston dress,I could not keep my eyes off her, to put it. More

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