Bob held up three fingers to the bartender and mouthed cerveza over a thumping bass line while Diane headed for the bathroom.  I was 15 and this was the first time I’d ever seen a woman’s breasts with my bare eyes. I stared. So much so I didn’t notice Bob was about ten feet away chatting with a woman.

“Okay,” he said when he returned to the table. “Diane and I are going to check out some 18-and-over bars. And you…” he paused, “that woman I was talking to is going to strip in a few minutes and then you’re going to go with her.”

“Go with her?” I asked. “Where?” Instead of answering me, he said: “Everything’s taken care of. Have fun.” Then they walked out of the bar…