So, he and I retreated to the kitchen where the drink-making materials were still on the counter. As we worked, Connor looked over at me and asked, �...You want the night to be over?”I shrugged, not knowing what he was getting at, “Why, what?” I asked him.He went about pouring the rum, handing me the glasses to add the crushed ice and ginger ale, “I made a phone call a little bit ago,” he said, looking up at me, “that place we talked about earlier… in Umatilla… they don’t close until two.” We both. Grasping your ankles and slowly raising my hands upward, passing your calves, to your knees and to lightly scratch the backs, up your thighs, feeling your little quivers of anticipation and the flexing of your muscles, I approach my goal. I want to run my thumbs over the junction of your thighs and your body, around and over your swollen mound. I want to feel your softness, your warmth, and, yes, your wetness, your sign of your readiness. Slipping my hands and arms between your legs you will be. More

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