I knew there would be a dark bruise there, I’d seen them before on Brendon, seen the dirty little grin when someone pointed them out. ‘Tell me you... want me.’ Now his hand was on the waistband of my jeans, his thumb rubbing against the silver button. I pulled back, eyes wide. He was so assertive, so aggressive. And even in getting fucked, I was always in charge, somehow. The make-up and the hairspray changed everything. ‘We shouldn’t do this.’ I whispered. ‘He broke up with you.’ It was a hiss,. She told him that she was going to be staying at some Holiday Inn or some other crappy motel in Denver. He agreed to stop by the motel and pick her up (he drove a motorcycle). My wife made sure that she said “Denise does not know about this so please don’t tell her”.On Friday, my wife had to find somebody at her college that was going to Denver for the weekend so she could catch a ride. She said that it was easy because half the college students lived in Denver. So her ride dropped her off. " Slowly she turns your hand over in her hers. A finger lightly tickles your palm. "The palms are the real give a way. Are they rough and callused from hard labor? Are they smooth and soft hands of a businessman? A mixture of both?" The tiny pink tongue again wets Her lips. "The nails. Clipped short and neat? Or bitten and chewed." Her fingertip gently rubs a tiny circle over each of your own shortly clipped nails. "The fingers, are they short and pudgy" a trace of a smile touches her mouth "or. The roads were wet for a couple of days while the snow melted and water drained off. It kept getting warmer every day. On the day I was to leave I realized that I didn’t take any short sleeve shirts and I was going to bake in long sleeves. Now along I-90, every town of much size has a Wal-Mart. I usually wear polo shirts. As I was heading West again, I stopped in Sioux Falls, Rapid City, Gillette, and Casper. NO SHORT SLEEVE POLOS to be found. The few I did find were double and triple XL,.