0 comments/ 23920 views/ 3 favorites A Perfect Ending By: suzib75 There I was at the bar, not feeling very comfortable or very relaxed, but getting closer and closer to that point with every sip of my drink. There was only one thing I hated about coming to this bar with my friends... they usually ended up going off somewhere to "talk" with this guy or that guy. So there I sat, in my black miniskirt and my black blouse, with my black stilletto heels, and my black stockings with the garter belt (but, of course, no one could see that). I had gotten dressed with the idea of looking good but not too flashy, and apparently I did it too well, because not one person had even tried to talk to me. On a normal day, that wouldn't bother me. I'd go and talk to them. I'd just find someone who looked like they might be interesting to talk to and introduce myself. But I'd had such a bad day that I was feeling a little sorry for myself and therefore felt almost like I couldn't just go out and meet people. The more I drank, the less sorry for myself I felt. I'm not the kind of person to get drunk in public, but the drink was much needed at that point. I started to relax, and I began to wonder what was going on with Elvia and Tanya. One thing was certain: they must have been having a good time, or else they would have been back by now. I might not even see them for the rest of the night. Good thing I'd taken my own car.... I began to feel the muscles in my neck and back relax, and my stress headache began to ease. I could breathe better and the pain behind my eyes began to go away. I was beginning to feel so much better. I looked around the room and saw things in a much different light. I began to realize that it wasn't so much that people were ignoring me, it was just a slow night. There weren't that many people, and the people that were there were mostly clustered in small, intimate groups and not paying much attention to anyone else. It wasn't the kind of scene you'd usually expect to see at a bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that caught my attention. There was a table with three men, and one of them was staring at me. He was trying to keep it hidden, but not doing a very good job for someone like me. He was talking to his friends, participating in the conversation, but his eyes were pointed towards me. My spirits finally started to lift.... I decided to play along. I crossed my legs, suddenly feeling very desirable. I tossed my hair off of my shoulder and began to play with my necklace. Hmmm. Maybe this day wouldn't suck after all.... I sipped my drink slowly, casting casual glances toward the door, pretending to look for my friends, but really doing it so I could sneak a peek at the man who seemed to find something about me just so interesting. Henry, the bartender, came to replace my drink. "So," he said, a sneaky smile on his face, "where did your friends go?" I had to laugh. My friends and I came to this bar often, so he knew all about them. He knew them quite well. "They did their usual, Henry," I said, handing him my empty glass. "I swear, they're both worse than teenagers." "Yeah," Henry said. "At least a teenager would have enough sense not to take those psychos home." I laughed, remembering one man that Tanya had met who, after she didn't return his phone calls, showed up at her house in the middle of a thunderstorm and waited for her in the pouring rain for six hours. "So," Henry said after placing my new drink on the bar, "how are you doing?" I gave him a disgusted laugh. "Do you really want to know?" He chuckled. "That bad, huh?" "Yeah," I said, taking a sip of my drink. "Well, then, tell me about it," he said. "If you want to, that is." "I've been having on of those 'Murphy's Law' kind of days," I said. "I don't think anything else could have gone wrong today. Knock on wood." I rapped my knuckles on the bar. "So what happened?" "Well, first I accidentally knocked my alarm clock off the table in my sleep, and it came unplugged. Which means I overslept. So I rushed to get ready for work, and my last pair of nylons ripped as I was putting them on. Then I go out to my car and find I have a flat tire. And no spare." "Oh, boy," Henry said, rolling his eyes. "A perfect start to the day." "You got it. So I had to call work and tell them I was going to be late - which they weren't pleased about, as you can well imagine. And then I had to call a tow truck to come fix my tire so that I could get to work at all. "So I get my tire fixed and I'm on my way to work, and what happens? And accident. Four cars in front of me. So I had to sit there until the police came to move the cars out of the way. Then I get to work and, of course, being late, I have to park all the way in the back of the parking lot, which means it took me 10 minutes to get from my car to my office. I get into my office, and my boss gives me the dirtiest look I've ever seen, which made me feel even worse than I already did. I go to my computer and try to retrieve the files for the presentation I was working on yesterday, and they're not there. I don't know where they went, but they're not on the computer anymore. So I had to redo the whole thing. It had taken me days to compile all the information I'd had on there, so basically I was working from scratch. "So I work hard all morning, skipping my break. Today of all days, I really needed a break. Lunch time comes around, and I'm starving, because I skipped breakfast - I didn't even have the time to grab a piece of fruit or anything this morning. So I decide to go get something to eat in the cafeteria. Oh, but guess what? I don't have any cash. So this means that I have to go to the bank and get some money out to get something to eat. "So the rest of the day goes - maybe not smoothly, but it goes. Then, just before I'm about to leave, I get a call from the bank. My loan has been denied. This is the fifth bank I've been to, trying to get a loan so that I can buy the kids and I a house. That apartment is just getting too small. "So, needless to say, I was really depressed on the way home, on the verge of tears the whole time. Then, about halfway home, I run out of gas. It was then, and only then, that I realized that I'd told myself yesterday that I was going to stop for gas on the way to work this morning, but with all the shit that happened, I'd forgotten. But here's the worst part: I didn't have my ATM card. "I had to call Elvia and have her go to my house and get my ATM card and bring it to me so that I could put some gas in my car. It was then that she suggested that we all go out tonight, seeing as we were all stressed. "And not to make light of their problems, but right now I feel like they couldn't possible be as stressed as I was. It's getting better. The longer I sit here, the more relaxed I feel, and the more I feel like a normal human being and not some slave. I know that's not fair to my boss, especially since he is a very nice guy, one of the easiest to work with that I've ever met, but today everything sucked." "You know what?" Henry asked, an absolutely dumbfounded look on his face. "No, what?" I asked, taking a deep breath. "The rest of the drinks are on me. You deserve them." "Thank you, Henry," I said, smiling for the first time that day. "I really appreciate that." I noticed that Henry wasn't looking at me. "Henry?" "I think..." "Henry, why are you whispering?" "I think your luck is about to change, sweetheart." He ever so slightly leaned his head in the other direction. I, casually as I could, turned and looked in the direction that Henry was indicating. It was the man who had been staring at me before I stepped into my pity-pot. He looked as if he were saying goodbye to his friends, but he wasn't heading for the door. He was heading in my direction. I turned and looked at Henry, wide-eyed. "You don't think he's coming over here, do you?" I asked, softly as I could. "Well, he was staring at you the whole time you were talking to me." "He was!? Why didn't you tell me?" Henry just grinned at me. "You sneaky old man, you." "You know it," he said, and walked away before I could protest. I looked at my drink, not sure what to do. I didn't want to make a fool of myself and do something stupid, especially if he wasn't really coming to me. But it was hard not to look. Kind of like a car accident on the side of the road - you don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself. I sat there, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it. I felt my blood racing through my veins, and I could feel my face getting hotter with every passing second. The more nervous I got, the harder it was to breathe. I yelled at myself in my head: Stop it! You don't even know that he noticed you. He might have been staring at someone behind you. The world does not revolve around you, you know! Just as my breathing began to get back to normal, I felt a light hand on my shoulder. I jumped a little, not expecting it. I took a deep breath and turned around as normally as possible. "Yes?" He looked at my hands, which still clenched the glass. "Well, I was going to ask you if I could buy you a drink, but I see that you already have one." I laughed, a very nervous laugh. "Yeah, asking me something like that would be kind of pointless." "May I keep you company?" he asked, and I could see in his face that he'd leave me alone if I told him to. The problem was, I wasn't sure what I wanted. "Sure," I said, taking a chance. "Go right ahead." He sat on the stool next to me. "What's your name, may I ask?" "Suzi. And yours?" "Chris. I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be on very good terms with the bartender. Do you come here often?" I started to answer, but he slapped himself in the forehead, grimacing. "What?" I asked. "That just sounded like the oldest pick-up line in the book." "Not quite. Close, yes, but not in the same context. You didn't just say, 'So, baby, come here often?' You had a logical reason to ask that question. And the answer is yes, I do. My friends and I come in here about once a week, on average. Sometimes more, sometimes less." "You were looking kind of down when you were talking to him. Anything wrong?" "No, not anymore. I've just had a really bad day and desperately need to relax." "Do you want to talk about it?" "Thank you, but no. I think talking about it once is good enough. I got it out and now it's done. I don't even want to think about it anymore." "Okay, I was just wondering." "Like I said, thank you for asking, but...." I smiled at him, as best as I could. "So what do you do?" he asked, obviously fishing for something to talk about. I have to admit, it was a bit flattering, knowing that he wanted to talk to me bad enough to begin a conversation with such an inane topic. "I work in an advertising agency. I'm not an executive or anything, but I do draw up proposals and sometimes even create the ads. Not many, but I've done a few." "Do you like it?" "Yeah, most of the time. I got into it as a fluke." "What do you mean?" "My mother saw this ad in the paper for 'artistic people,' and she called me up and told me I should answer it. I was unemployed at the time. So I figured, 'what the hell?' You know? I figured if nothing else, I could keep looking for a different job, but at least this way I'd be able to pay my bills. Well, it turns out that I like it very much. It just gets very stressful sometimes. Those are the times that I wonder why I ever took the job. But I do get to use my creative side, and that is why my mother suggested I answer the ad in the first place. So what do you do?" "I design computer software. Not as artistic as your job, but I think it's also a creative one." "I think that kind of job is kind of on the border. You do need to be creative to think of some of the things that they put out there, but you also have to know all the technical aspects of computers and computer language, etc. It's definitely not a profession for dimwits." "Do you want to know the one thing I hate?" he asked. "What?" "When I tell people what I do, and they basically tell me that I don't look like a 'nerd.'" I couldn't help but laugh. "Well, you know how society is. They get this one image of something, and, wrong or right, they cling to it. I think all those "Revenge Of The Nerds" movies kind of added to the nerd stereotype about computers. You know, that only nerds really know anything about them." "Exactly. It's like they expect me to be wearing big coke bottle glasses, high-water pants, a pocket protector, and to be saying "Heee, heee" all the time." I couldn't help but laugh at his imitation of the lead role in the Revenge of the Nerds movies. "I learned the hard way not to cling to stereotypes of people. So I usually try not to assume anything until I have the facts. And sometimes... the stereotype fits." I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, you're right," he said, laughing right along with me. "I just hate it when people are suprised that a normal, healthy, somewhat young american man could be a computer software designer." "I can kind of relate. People are suprised when they learn some things about me. But, then again, sometimes that's the fun part." I just couldn't help grinning at him. "True. Hey, listen - these stools aren't the most comfortable. Would you like to go sit at a table or a booth so that we can talk?" I hesitated for a second. But only a second. "Sure. Just let me tell Henry something really quick." "Okay." I got up and went to the other end of the bar and pulled Henry aside. "We're going to go sit down at a table and talk. If Elvia and Tanya come back and don't see me, would you let them know where I am?" "Sure. So how's it going?" He lifted his eyebrows at me. "Not bad... so far. We'll see. At least he's not like your usual barfly." "See? I told you your luck was changing." "Yeah, well, we don't know that... yet." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Chris found a seat in the back, in a dark corner, where we could see everything but not everybody could see us. I did notice, however, that there was a terrific escape route if I felt I should need one. We sat down, and I was a little nervous, so I kept looking around, down at my hands, playing with my rings, anything to keep from looking at him. He just sat there patiently, smiling at me, and I felt my heart began to pound even more, but not from nervousness this time. We talked for about an hour before we both realized that not only were our drinks empty (and we were thirsty), but the bar was starting to fill up more, although not near us. There were a bunch of people clustered up near the bar itself, and around the tables surrounding it. It was like we were in our own little world where we could just sit there and watch everybody else. It was kind of nice. I found that I had totally and completely relaxed, and I’d forgotten all about the escape route. I even found myself flirting back at him, trapping him with my eyes, playing with my necklace in order to draw his attention to somewhere… else. “Would you like another drink?” he asked me, getting up. “Actually, I would, thank you,” I said, smiling. “What were you drinking again?” “I never told you in the first place.” “Oh, yeah, that’s right….” “Whiskey sour, please.” “Oh, so you like the hard stuff, huh?” “Well, I don’t like the taste of beer, and wine just doesn’t do it for me most of the time. Besides, you can’t even taste the whiskey.” “That’s true. Well, I’ll be right back, okay?” “I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.” “You better not be,” he said with a smile on his face and eyes like a fox. I waited for him to get lost in the crowd up by the bar and I took the chance to check myself in my little purse mirror. “Damn!”, I thought. “I wish I’d known all my makeup had worn off. And look at this hair!! God, I need some conditioner. Oh, well. Too late now.” I had just closed the mirror into the purse when he came back with our drinks. I breathed a small sigh of relief that he hadn’t caught me. I didn’t want to seem too shallow, but when a woman meets a new man that she’s attracted to, she can’t help but wonder if she looks okay or not, and the only way to know is to check it out. But to do it in front of him would be too obvious. “So, did you miss me?” he asked, that sly smile on his face again. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t know if I’d be able to live without you.” “Gee, you sound so convincing,” he said with a laugh. “Sorry,” I said, laughing along with him. “I tend to be a smartass sometimes. Just ignore me and I’ll stop. I think….” That comment made him laugh even more. “I like a woman who can be herself. So tell me… is there anything else besides you’re a smartass that I should know?” “Well, I guess that I have two kids.” “That doesn’t bother me. At least you didn’t bring them to the bar with you.” “No, I don’t want to be like my parents, thank you very much.” “Bad childhood, huh?” “The worst.” “Well, let’s not talk about that. I don’t want to get depressed. I’m having too good a time with you.” I smiled. I just couldn’t help it. “Thank you,” I said softly. He reached out and touched my cheek with his finger. “Don’t thank me. I’m telling you the truth.” The moment our skin touched, I felt fireworks go off in my head. I knew I was attracted to him, and what woman wouldn’t be? I mean, he wasn’t a Greek God or anything, but he was cute. Very cute. But there was just something about the way he touched me, like… like I knew that making love to him would make those fireworks go off somewhere besides my head. But of course, how would I know that? And yet…. “Let me ask you a question,” he said, bringing me back to Earth. “What kind of qualities do you look for in a man?” “Actually, I don’t.” “What do you mean, you don’t?” “I don’t have a selected list of certain things that a man has to have or do or say in order to be with me. I take everyone, male and female, as individuals, with strengths and weaknessess, so I really can’t answer that question. There is one thing I stay away from, though.” “And what would that be?” “I stay away from any and all addictions.” “Hmmm. Even sex?” I immediately blushed and looked at the table. “Um, well, I’ve never actually met a man that’s been addicted to sex.” “Would you like to?” I looked up at him suddenly, my eyes as big as saucers. “What do you mean?” “I’ve been told that I seem to be addicted to sex.” “And why would anyone say that about you?” “Because I like to have it every night and even in strange and interesting places.” “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.” I blushed at my own boldness, at my being able to speak so frankly with a man I’d only just met. “I certainly don’t think so,” he said, taking my hand in his. “So tell me… what kind of men do you like? I mean, short, tall, skinny, big, dark hair, light hair, any ancestral preferences?” “I like all kinds of men. I have to admit, I tend to be more attracted to the tall big ones, but I’m openminded. As far as ‘race’ is concerned, I could care less. Although I will admit that I’ve never gone out with any man that hasn’t been either white or black. I ‘haven’t tasted the rest of the menu,’ I guess you could say.” “Well, does that bother you?” “No. The way I figure it, if the opportunity arises, fine. If not, fine. Either way, it’s not going to kill me.” A Perfect Ending “Can I ask you a question?” “Sure.” “Do you mind if I come over there and sit next to you?” Although it made me nervous, my whole body was telling me to say yes to him. So I did. He took our coats and filled the other seat, and sat down next to me, turning a little so that he was facing me more. I did the same, being careful not to let my skirt ride up too much. “So, is there anything else you want to know about me?” I asked, not really sure if I was setting myself up for something or not. I should have known better. “What kind of lover do you like?” he asked, his eyes staring into mine intently. I blushed but this time I didn’t turn away. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.” “I mean, do you like it fast or slow, hard or soft, long or short.” “I’m an eclectic.” “How so?” “I like all of those things. I like to spend all night making love, and then there are times when I just need to get off, you know?” “Yes. Go on.” “I like it to start out slow but end fast. If you know what I mean.” “Mmm. Yeah, I think I know what you mean.” “And I like it when my lover does it real soft, but I can’t come unless it’s hard and fast.” Someone in my head just smacked their hand over their mouth, amazed at my brazenness. “And that’s it?” “Well, what else would you like to know?” “Oh, I see, so I have to ask specific questions, huh?” “Yeah, or else I won’t know what it is you really want to know.” “Well, how do you like to be kissed?” “That all depends on where.” “All the places there are to be kissed.” “Well, I love french kisses. I once had a man french kiss me and then run his tongue from my mouth to my ear, and then down my neck, as far as he could go without coming into contact with my clothes. “I like to have my ear sucked on, lightly. It just makes me go wild inside. “I like to be kissed….” I looked around to make sure no one could hear us. “I like to be kissed on my breasts.” “Where on your breasts?” “Everywhere. The nipples are the most sensitive, of course, but I like to have just the whole thing kissed and caressed.” “Do you like it when a man eats you out?” My eyes popped out of my head at his harsh language. Up until now he had sounded like he was trying to be polite, but now he was getting plain old dirty. The problem was, I was too…. “Yes, I do. What woman wouldn’t?” “Have you ever been tongue-fucked?” I closed my eyes at the memory that popped up in my head. “Yes,” I said, almost inaudibly. “And do you like it when a man sticks his finger up inside you?” I started to breathe heavily again, but not for the same reason as I was an hour ago. “Yes.” I could barely hear my own voice. I hadn’t noticed, but he had gotten closer and closer, and now there was nowhere left to go. I was trapped there, stuck between the wall and him, and I felt his hand begin to gently slide up my leg, slowly, an inch at a time. “How many?” he asked. “How many what?” I was too entranced by the touch of his hand on my thigh to really pay attention to what he was saying to me. “How many fingers do you like to have inside of you?” “Three is the most I can handle comfortably. Any more and it hurts as well as feels good, and if it hurts, then it defeats the purpose because then it prevents me from doing what I really want to do.” His hand was getting closer, closer…. He was almost up to his wrist under my skirt. “What positions do you like to fuck in?” he asked, drawing my attention away from his hand again. “All of them,” I croaked, my whole body tingling. “I’ve never tried one I didn’t like.” “And do you like anal sex? I’m just curious. That one’s not for everyone.” He was inches away from the ‘gold mine,’ and I was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on what he was saying to me. I also found myself getting so moist…. “Actually, I do. I didn’t at one time, thought it hurt too bad. But then I tried it again, and I don’t know what he did differently, but I had the most incredible orgasm of my entire life.” I could now feel his fingertip teasing my lip through my satin panties. “Do you mind that I’m doing this?” he asked. “No,” I said. “If Iminded, I would be gone by now.” “Good,” he said, drawing his head closer to mine. “I’m enjoying this, too. You don’t know just how badly I want you right now.” “You’re right. I don’t. There’s no way I could. I’m not a mind reader.” I felt his fingers push the satin aside and gently work their way between my lips. I leaned my head back against the wall and moaned softly, unable to help myself. “You like that, huh?” he asked, his voice deep and husky. “Yes,” I whispered. “Come here,” he said, and he took me by the shoulder and sat me up so that our faces were just inches apart. “God, you do have beautiful eyes.” “Thank you,” I whispered. Then he bent his head and kissed me, a soft, deep, extremely sensual kiss, while his fingers went to work on my clitoris. I dug my nails into his shoulders to keep from crying out. “Oh my god,” I whispered. Chris bent his head and started to kiss my neck, gently sucking and licking at it. I bent my head away so that he would have more room to caress my neck with his lips. As he was doing this, his fingers had moved lower and were now entering my insanely wet pussy. I could feel my temperature rise, as well as my nipples. I hated being teased like this, but then again, I loved it. Finally I couldn’t help myself. I reached out, slowly, and caressed his dick through his pants. He groaned against my neck. “Don’t stop,” he said. “That feels so good.” I gently rubbed along the shaft of his dick, letting my nails scrape gently against the fabric of his pants and smiling as it jumped on its own. “God, I want you,” he said, suddenly biting my neck. “Me, too,” I said, in some way still embarassed at my boldness, but too much into the moment to care. I don’t know what it was about him that turned me on so much, but it did, and I couldn’t turn it off. I needed to have it, whatever it was, and I needed to have it soon. “I’ve got an idea,” he said into my hair, his fingers still inside me, stroking and caressing, while I rubbed and squeezed his dick. “What?” I asked, suddenly willing to do anything to make this pain ease. He let go of me completely. “Follow me,” he said, grabbing our coats and disappearing down a hallway. I followed him and watched as he opened every door along the hallway, talking to himself the whole time, frustrated that it wasn’t what he was looking for. Finally he found it. He opened the door and flicked the light switch. “Come in here,” he said, reaching out to take my hand.” What we had stepped into was obviously someone’s private bathroom, probably the owner’s. It was tastefully though sparsely decorated, although it was small. “Come here,” Chris said, dumping our belongings on the floor. I went to him and he took me in his arms, kissing me and crushing me up against the sink. His hands cupped my ass as he pushed his waist into me, letting me feel his erection. He kissed his way down my neck, licking and sucking like a starving madman at a banquet. I moaned out loud this time, knowing that it was HIGHLY unlikely that anyone was going to hear me. And if they did, so what? Chris had locked the door. I ran my hands over his ass, around to his dick, where I resumed doing what I’d been doing before in the booth. “Unzip my pants,” Chris panted at me. I did, and as I was doing so, I could feel his hands move forward, to cup my breasts. “God, I didn’t realize how huge these were,” he said, rubbing my nipples through the fabric of the blouse. He began to unbutton me, but he was having a hard time at it. His fingers just wouldn’t stop shaking. Finally, he got it open and slid it down my arms and off of me, throwing it aside like an old rag. He took a step back to look at what he’d just unveiled. “Wow,” he said, reaching out to undo my bra and let it all hang out. He took off my bra and immediately took one nipple in his mouth. I gasped, clutching at his head. His hands moved lower, to my pussy again, and wasted no time in sliding up my skirt to get inside. I wiggled my hips, spreading my thighs so that he’d have easier access to it. He let one finger slip and then looked at me with wide eyes. “Do I feel a g-string?” he asked. I smiled up at him. “Yes.” “Let me see.” So I slid my skirt up, so that it was all bunched up around my waist, and turned around, showing him the white satin g-string with the red hearts on it. “Oh my god,” he said, rubbing both of my ass cheeks. “That looks so good on you.” Since he had moved away from me for a moment, I took the liberty of reaching down and completing the task of undressing him. I got down on my knees, looking his one-eyed-monster right in its one eye. I tentatively reached out and licked it, watching his face for his reaction. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, so I knew I had permission. I licked the head of his dick, relishing the taste of the little bit of pre-come that had started to leak already. I ran my tongue up and down the shaft, lightly nibbling on the skin here and there. I went even lower and lightly, gently, sucked his balls while caressing his dick with my hand. I went back to the head and took as much of it as I could into my mouth at once, smiling as he groaned in ecstacy. I sucked and I licked, I nibbled and I caressed, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Finally he grabbed me by the arms and pulled me up, kissing me hard and passionately on the mouth as he did. He pushed me up against the counter and put his hands under my ass, lifting me to sit on the edge of the sink. Then it was his turn to get on his knees. He buried his face into my pussy, his tongue flicking at my clit, making me moan and scream. He slid his tongue inside of me and put his hands behind me, grabbing a firm hold of my ass. He pulled me into his mouth as he pushed his tongue inside of me, tongue fucking me and driving me over the edge. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Now, Chris, now. Do it now.” He stood up and grabbed my ass again, lifting me so that he could slide his dick inside. I reached out and grabbed his shoulders, digging my nails in, and wrapping my legs around his waist. He wasted no time. He began to pound into me, harder and faster and deeper each time. I lifted my hips to each thrust of his, and I could feel him inside of me, sliding in and out, every now and then hitting my g-spot and making me scream louder and louder. He bent his head to take a nipple in his mouth and I tightened my grip on his waist. He thrust faster and faster, until all I could feel was his dick inside of me and my nipple in his mouth. Electricity seemed to emanate from every pore of my body as I began to come, reaching out and drawing him in even closer, sucking him into me, making us one. I screamed so loud, louder than I ever had before. Finally, just as my eyesight was beginning to go the same route as my sense of touch, I looked up to see Chris let out a loud, deep moan, saying my name at the same time and I realized that we’d just come together. ~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~ This is the first story that I ever wrote, in April of 1999. I would love feedback, but please, be kind. :-) I don't know how much my fragile ego can take. ;-)