She would be lucky to have been twenty-five. I told her I wanted to remain anonymous, and so was there a way I could give my details, but not be named...She asked, “What did you have in mind?” I said, “Well, what if I take you to dinner?”She just laughed, and said I was out of luck as she was not interested in men, as men were assholes. “I see you have been hurt by an asshole before. Not all men are assholes. Some of us are just liars,” I replied.The officer looked me square in the eye; she had. A low murmur of talk filled the room. The gentle clink of glasses. My leg twitched nervously as I waited. Self-concious thoughts ran through my mind: How is my hair? Am I wearing the right dress? I had never had particularly high self-esteem, though Chris told me I was beautiful every day.Chris. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. Even the sound of his name sent butterflies through my stomach. My boyfriend since my sophomore year in high school, Chris and I shared the relationship. Shelly turned to face me. We looked each other in the eyes and then, simultaneously, leaned in and kissed each other on the lips. "I was afraid I'd lose you, Britt." she said, placing her hand on my cheek. I closed my eyes and pressed my face against her hand. Then I felt her lips upon mine again. We kissed, this time deeper. Our tongues met and entwined. Each of us explored the others mouth in a soulful kiss. I felt Shelly's hand reach down to the hem of my shirt. She then went beneath it,. He considered himself a Renaissance Man. Although Josh Dill had advanced from Junior Editor to Senior Editor in only four years at Pussycat he hardly knew Sput at all. Sput never came to the offices, preferring to work in his mansion four blocks north, and Dill only saw him on the rare occasions when he was called to that imitation Taj Mahal for a conference. Those conferences tended to be a bit much. Like certain movie actors who are always "on" even when nowhere near a sound stage, Sput.
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