And there you are on a bench, knees drawn up. Even bundled in a long ratty sweatshirt with the hood pulled over your head, I know it’s you. Can’t ...ven describe the feeling that confirms it. It’s one of those things, like viewing a Rembrandt in a museum. You don’t need the card telling you who painter is. You just know. That’s how that shit works, right?I tap your shoulder and you jump, springing off the bench into a low crouch like you’re readying to fight tooth and nail, to the death, green. He had both hands on her rear. They were barely moving he was pulling her real tight up against himself. I could see he was moving his hands up and down on her ass, stopping and squeezing, Judy did not back off. At the end of the song George through a lip lock on her. They stood there for a good thirty seconds and kissed. George walked Judy back over to the table and thanked me for the dance.“What was that all about? It looked like something was really going on out there.”Judy answered, “When. More

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