Chapter Seven
“Can you come to dinner?” I asked Joanna.
“When?” she responded. I interrupted her at the copy machine.
“Tonight?” I looked at her almost pleading. I had to speak to her before Friday.
“You look upset,” she commented.
“Probably, I’ve had a lot on my mind and I need to talk.”
“What about?”
“It’s too personal for here, and too long a story for lunch. Please, I’ll throw some cold cuts and bread on the table. A little wine or beer?”
“Of course,” she replied. I could see she was filled with questions. “This isn’t about more notes?”
“Yes it is,” I whispered.
“I thought they’d stopped, you hadn’t mentioned any since that one about the masturbation.” She whispered quietly; though I was still uncomfortable with the conversation right there in the copy room.
“Well there’s
