She met Ken. He was several inches taller than her, charming, and good looking. Because he was well dressed, when he told her he had a position with a prominent law firm she believed him. He was a good dancer.Later on that night she found he was good in bed, with the chiseled body of one who works out at a health club. Ever the thoughtful lover, he had an unused toothbrush for her. Everything in his condominium overlooking Connecticut Avenue spoke of good taste and a good income.When Emily looked at pictures framed on the walls, she said, "I recognize several reproductions from the National Art Gallery. The others are original." She walked over to one his book shelves. "These are impressive titles," she said, "The books have obviously been read." She picked out one book, opened it and read, "The Poetic Edda, translated from the Icelandic with an introduction and notes by Henry Adams Bellows. I read part of this in the Library of Congress. It has been out of print for decades." I am. In the car's dark interior, all I know is that it felt real enough.Now, some guys would have thought nothing of this, put it back, and continued with what promised to be a memorable evening. And some guys might go screaming into the night, or at least end this little escapade prematurely. I couldn't seem to do either. Maybe it was my somewhat altered state, or maybe it was the naked girl I had come to fantasize about calling out to me, still prancing some twenty yards ahead in the moonlight.I sat there a long time, so long that when I finally decided to find Laurie, she had disappeared. I walked the twenty yards, searched up and down the deserted beach, and was almost ready to give up when she appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me from behind."Gottcha!"We did get to use that blanket. I remember her sometimes classic, sometimes playful face inches from mine as I looked into her eyes. I remember that she couldn't seem to decide if she wanted to be on top, or under me. We each.
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