Apparently 'The gods of fucking' had deemed otherwise, she thought to herself, because she still had his number.It was providence. She was meant to do...it this once. A providential fuck. She liked the sound of that.Thinking back on that day, she realized that sometimes the gods of fucking are just fucking with you.And so it was that an hour after John had left, Lutka Galore was fucking George.Natasha had called him and, "Why yes, I'm free this morning, and I'd love to drop by for coffee," he'd. So far I'd been turning their engines off whenever they got within three hundred horizontal feet of us, then picking up the boat so it was five feet out of the water, turning it sideways, and putting it down again. Some of them had gotten the hint the first time, but those that persisted in trying to get closer got picked up and put down fifty feet farther away. I'd keep that up while it worked. If things got too chaotic I'd disable the trouble-making boats or move us much higher. I preferred. More

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