The Trouble With Harry Goodman

available in Kindle on AmazonI've worn these Oakley Tightrope glasses maybe 40 times in the past year. I wear them only for bicycling and the occasional weekend event. I was very surprised to see paint chips had flaked off. For Details check out

“Harry enjoyed being on the third floor of the Whitney. He wanted an old house like it one day, but knew that he might have to move somewhere on the eastern seaboard to find one. His daydreaming was disrupted by the smell of Janet’s perfume. “Hello Janet,” Harry said, without turning away from the window.

“Good evening Harry Goodman.” Janet moved toward Harry, pressing herself against him. She kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Have you been having a good day Harry?”

“I’ve been having a superlative day. Let’s go to the bar and get a drink.”

They sat at the end of the bar. They were immediately approached by a petite young Asia woman with spiked golden blonde hair and a nose ring adorning her left nostril. “Hi, my name is Bridgette. Welcome to the Ghost Bar. What may I get for you? Would you like to see some menus?” 

Janet looked at Harry. “Are you hungry Janet?” 

“Yes, Harry I am. Let’s look at some menus.”  

Harry ordered a Stoli martini. Janet had a Cosmopolitan. Bridgette handed them menus from the counter below the mirrored wall and began working on their drink orders.  

“So what kind of work do you do? Wait, lemme guess.” Janet took a sip from her drink and studied Harry’s face. “You’re a psychologist.”
Harry tried not to react. He wanted to believe that she had made a lucky guess. He gave her a demure smile. “You’re right Janet. I’m a psychologist. More to the point, I’m a psychotherapist. I also do psychometric testing, because I realized I had a knack for it, when I was working on my masters.”

Janet had a huge grin on her face. “Wow, I’m in the first year of my doctoral program in psychology at Wayne State. That’s amazing Harry! I’ve almost accumulated enough credits to have earned a Masters. Oh my God! I’ve been searching high and low for somewhere to do my practicum.”

Janet stood up and moved between Harry’s legs. She put her hand on Harry’s left thigh and rubbed it slowly. “Harry, hook a sistah up. I’ll make it worth your while,” she stated in her little girl voice. Janet put her hand on the bulge growing in Harry’s pants. He was glad that he had put on boxers that morning, as his engorged member began pushing against the soft material of his underpants.”