Every Sunday morning at 8:30. All by himself with the paper. He’s older than me by far, silver-haired and well-worn in his jeans and his turquoise c...rduroy shirt. But he’s good-looking in that tough cowboy sort of way, and he’s strong and straight-backed, and I watch him drink his coffee and read the paper, and I think about him.I dress better than I need to on Sunday morning’s at 8:30, putting a little extra effort into my outfit. I make an effort, and I think he notices. I think he knows I’m. 'Cum', I queried, 'Yes', she replied with an exasperated edge to her voice. She took out a cigarette and lit it, so grown-up we thought, and her eyes squinted when the acrid smoke blew back onto her chiselled, angular features.Frida was a beauty, her long blond mane, always looked shaggy and feminine, her eyes a bright blue and her rose tinted lips pouted naturally, sometimes I wanted to kiss her, they would tease me and I would feel my heart beat faster with the thought of sharing a bed with. More

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