“Then, why don’t you call me David,” he said with alaugh. “David. Come to bed,” Becky replied, throwing back thecovers. ...David Johnson was thirty-eight, six two, two hundredpounds with coal black hair streaked by strands of grayand flashing blue eyes. He worked out frequently, hisbody muscular and hard as a result. Becky had beenturned on by him the first time she saw him. In thefaint light, she saw him undress. He pulled back thecovers and lay beside her. He pulled. He sure wasn’t being explicit about his job prospects, though. Was she supposed to ignore that he was getting his Ph. D. in a few days? No. She was going to the ceremony. Was she supposed to be ignorant that he would have to get some sort of work? Maybe. People like George didn’t connect working nine-to-five with having food on the table the way her family did. Was she supposed to be the one adult in the USA who didn’t know that there was a draft on? They watched the nightly news. I spun in my chair and struck up a leaning pose against the kitchen counter. She walked in the door and sat her bags down just inside and as she looked up and caught a glimpse of me she stopped and stared for a moment, then broke into a huge grin. "Wow, what a surprise honey," she said. "I assume this means I am going to get laid without any objections?" she toyed."You won't find any objections from me," I responded and took a sip from my glass of wine and handed her one of her own.Stepping. I need to get rid of his stink and I have to avoid his attempts to kiss and cuddle. Shit, he looks at me like a puppy. He really seems to have it bad for me.I see some movement behind the curtains.“Ted, you haven’t closed the curtains. Shit, I just hope nobody has seen us.”“Don’t worry, honey. Nobody knows we’re here.”“Yeah, I just hope you’re right.” I have a brief vision of Tom watching us and the idea alone is enough to start a small panic attack. I can’t wait to get back to my soft,.