"Well," I said, "this might be different. Why don't you ask her?" Frank said I was a baby if I went to my mommy!" What?" Frank and Jesse! They said th...at only babies played with Warriors! Then they took him and smashed him! They said I was a baby that would go crying to my mommy!" He was starting to cry again."I'm not a baby!" he repeated.I reached out and put an arm around him and he turned and started hugging me, crying into my shirt. I held him and just let him cry."No, you're not a baby," I. I was sixteen at the time, Debbie fifteen. Jeez, did I love to look at her tits. I was on one end of the couch, my left arm stretched out along the back of that couch. Debbie was on the other end, her right hand stretched out in my direction. Inches separated them. As I took my eyes from the TV to gape at Debbie's boobs, I noticed how close our fingers were to each other. It reminded me of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, that famous centerpiece entitled 'Creation of Adam.'Author's Note: For. Five plain-clothes detectives stood around the corpse, huddled in their coats, watching two techs probe and prod it like a gruesomely interesting lab specimen.“Well! Is it the same?” the oldest of the detectives snapped, his craggy face scrunched into an irritated scowl. He was so obviously Polish he might as well have had the Polish flag tattooed to his forehead. He was also well into middle age and beginning to lean towards portliness, despite the imposing physique bundled up in a fur-lined. " Marcus shrugged his shoulders carelessly."Great, Miranda can have the same!"Peter ordered their drinks, and while he was waiting he chatted lightly with Marcus, although his gaze kept drifting across the room to the girls.Peter paid the bar man and collected the drinks."Shall we join the girls?" he asked lightly.Marcus picked up his own glass again and stood up with a little sigh of resignation.He really had wanted to keep his distance from Miranda, but it seemed like that wasn't going to be.