When she finally staggered home, she opened her front door to find her father standing there in his PJs, arms crossed. She promptly threw up on his feet. That was the end of Janet’s status as track team mascot and kissing maven. And the world is a poorer place for it. The only woman I ever knew who could kiss like Janet was Beth. Beth wasn’t a fancy kisser like Janet was. She didn’t have ‘technique.’ But she, too, knew where all the good nerve endings lay. When I pressed my lips against Beth’s, I knew I was in for an experience. Her lips weren’t merely soft, they had depth. When you leaned into her lips, they leaned back. They met you, they took you in, they enveloped you. It was like easing yourself onto a waterbed-you would just sink in and you weren’t sure you would ever want to get out again. Beth, when she really got going, had this most enticing habit. I don’t know how to describe it exactly. It was like she was humming, or purring even. She was totally unaware of it, I’m. It looked impeding but notsomething that would make one freeze in place. Apparently, he had donnedevery pair of pantyhose that existed in our home alternating betweenlayers top to bottom. He looked to be a mannequin devoid of any naturalform and quite stuck in a singular position."Let's have it Charlie," I demanded in an exasperated tone, from the topof the stairs. This high perch looking down on the individual that wascaught in a strange position to say the least, would normally bringembarrassment and shame along with at least a little trepidation, not ourCharlie. He just stood there frozen in time with a stupid grin adorninghis face. Descending the unfinished stairs, I started to see an additionalshine to already shiny material that our child had adorned himself in.This piqued my interest. Coming closer I had an idea of what hadtranspired. All I needed to do was to proceed to the laundry area to findseveral empty cans of aerosol glitter glue.Returning to Charlie stuck to the.
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