My zipper. I remember a tugging sensation. His hands again. My chest. My jeans and boxers yanked down. Cool air on my ass. Both of us stumbling back. ...umping into the dining table. Roughly being turned around. Bent. That was me, me being bent over the table. My jeans around my ankles.My God! If the first part was a blur, the next part was anything but. No, if anything, the next part is crystal clear and in painfully sharp focus. He had me over the table, ass bare, legs spread open as wide as my. “Yes,” I responded firmly but with hesitation. Although the question was not entirely inappropriate, the tone seemed rather odd coming from someone I had just met a few hours earlier. I continued, “I met Maria at school and we have decided to move in together.” “What is she like?” she followed up. I began to feel uncomfortable with the personal turn our conversation had taken. I answered her questions vaguely. “Well then, Gloria, since you brought up the subject… Do you have a boyfriend?” I. More

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