Tommy sat up for a moment, startled. "But you can't do that, "he said. "We… we just met a few days ago. And… and… "

"I'm sorry, Tommy. But I have to go. My friend Regina is getting married and I have to be with her. You understand, don't you? Don't you?"

Dropping his head into her cleavage, Tommy began licking her tits absent-mindedly. "No," he mumbled. "I don't understand."

The weeks that followed were frantic ones for Barbara. Events happened at a mad pace. She went back to her hometown, stayed at the home of her soon-to-be married girlfriend, Regina, was offered and took a summer job on the local newspaper, and renewed one childhood friendship after another. She hoped she would not have to return to the Me Generation kooks of Los Angeles after the summer was over. She loved the little town where she had grown up, and was a bit jealous of Regina who had lived her entire life there and was soon to marry Greg, a boy they had both known since kindergarten days.

But just a few days into her stay at the Prescott home, Barbara realized that the day after the wedding she would be alone in the big house. Regina's parents were leaving on vacation and of course Regina would be on her honeymoon. The whole idea of staying on in Regina's house turned Barbara off. She considered taking an apartment of her own, but wondered if she could afford it. And that's when it happened. The newspaper's ace reporter was killed in a plane crash, and after a day of shock in the City Room, someone mentioned that the dead man's penthouse apartment and his houseboat would be vacant now, and, although it seemed a bit ghoulish, Barbara began to think about the possibility of taking over the houseboat herself. She became fascinated with the idea. The penthouse itself was, of course, out of the question. The rent was fourteen hundred a month! But the houseboat… perhaps she could swing that. After helping Regina that night with the final wedding invitations, Barbara thought about the idea long into the night before falling asleep.