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I live on 42nd street". Even if it wasn't on my way I stillwould have helped her out. I walked her to her place and we exchanged our nameson the way. She lived in one of those two-story flats that shares walls withother buildings. She stepped to the door, still wearing my shirt. "You gotto be cold yourself. I got some decaf coffee if you want some." Shewas a stranger, but I figured it would be rude to refuse her. And while Iwasn't athletic myself I still had to be at least a little stronger than her.She had the place very neat and well kept, and led me to a small dining room. Shecalled to me from the kitchen. "Hey,my couch folds out to a bed. If you want you can stay the night," sheasked. "Iappreciate it, but I should get home. I got a library book to pick up." "Oh,okay... well maybe we can go out on Saturday?" Ipaused. I wasn't working Saturday... but I already had a girlfriend, althoughshe was visiting family in Albany. If I had any vacation days left I would havewent with her.. " *** Though she did everything she could, Karen could not stop thinking about Mickey. Over and over and over again, she would catch herself fantasizing about what it would be like were he to kiss her, were he to tenderly fondle her, were he to actually have that gross male thingie of his nestled ever so snugly up inside of her. And, the more she thought about it, the more she found herself warming to the idea that it might prove extremely interesting to find out what it would be like were Mickey to make love to her. Oddly enough, Karen was quick to realize, Mickey was the only male that she came in contact with that tugged at her heartstrings. Grudgingly, she came to recognize the fact that the more she was in his presence, the giddier and sexually excited she was becoming. Succinctly put, Mickey made Karen feel like the woman she had become. Just thinking about him caused a marked suppression of that rather healthy male ego of hers.*** "Mickey," Jean Miller said one evening at the.
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