I fumble, finding it difficult to clasp the small white plastic in my fingers. After the third button you takeover, finishing the job I had started. You let your flannel shirt fall off your arms, revealing your toned torso. You place your hands on my hips, bunching my dress up in clumps in and around your fingers. I lift my arms into the air allowing you to pull my dress over my head. I am braless, my thin white cotton panties the only article of clothing left on me. You walk towards the bed with an outstretched hand. I reach out too and my fingers brush yours briefly, but we never hold hands. There are only a few steps between where we were standing and the bed. We both climb on top of it.You guide me onto my back and take your stance over me, a hand on either side of my head. I can feel your cool breath on me and your eyes penetrating mine. I suddenly become aware of my vulnerability with a thin piece of fabric the only thing guarding my morality. We stare at each other for a. "Are you sure?" "Uh-huh. It was him." "He was really handsome, though, wasn't he? Omigod." "Rach, you have to start saying something else. That's getting old." "Omigod!" she said, covering her mouth. "Do I say it all the time?" "You mean, like, just now?" Amy said. "Yea-ah." * Monday morning they prepared to paint the dining room. They rolled up the oriental rug and moved the furniture into the middle of the room and covered it with plastic drop cloths. They took down everything from the walls and stashed it in the living room. They were ready to begin painting when the telephone rang. Rachel went to the wall phone in the kitchen and picked up. "Hello. This is Robert Bissett. Which one are you?" Rachel’s jaw dropped. Amy said, "Who is it?" Rachel cupped the mouthpiece with her hand and whispered. "It's him! The guy from down the beach!" Amy rushed over and grabbed the phone. She took a deep breath and said in her sexiest tone, "Hello, Rob-ehr. It's Amy. How are you?" She thought of.
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