Any inconsistencies, spelling errors, typos, or grammatical mistakes are therefore their fault.The Last HoorahThursday evening rolled around, and I showed up at a house just outside of Bridgeport, Connecticut, at the designated time. I didn’t have particularly high hopes, but if this was the only real chance I had of getting the money I was owed from the debacle that was the party earlier in the week. If nothing else, it would give me a chance to thank the bartender that had helped care for me in its aftermath.I still seethed when I thought about how I had been treated at the party a few days before. Even after more than a decade of being a whore, that was the only time I had really been violated against my will. True, I had needed to fend off sleazeballs before, and I’d cut engagements off early because they were straying from the agreed-upon terms. That was the first –- and only –- time that gang rape had been a realistic prospect. I still felt that things would have turned out very badly for me if not for Charlie the caterer and Daniel the bartender stepping in to help me.As I rang the door chime at the modest home, I made up my
