I’d smoked a little before we left and Elliott’s choice of music amused me. I’d liked just about everything I’d heard on the ride to D.C., but for the ride home, the music was just so perfectly suited for a nice toasty buzz. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he planned it that way. Elliott was an incredibly nice guy. Not just a nice guy, but a real gentleman or whatever. He hadn’t looked at my tits once. He didn’t smack my ass or make raunchy comments. That was a new thing for me. Basically it meant he made me really nervous. I mean, he’d even brought me coffee this morning. I knew it wasn’t a big deal or anything, but it was thoughtful and considerate, and who in my world did that? He called me out about smoking pot. I loved that. He didn’t make me feel bad about it, and just said that I didn’t have to hide it from him. Now that was a notion that made me nearly piss in my pants with fear. Not hide? Jesus. What would that be like? I realized that smoking pot in front of him wasn’t exactly sensitive.
