Fast forward a few years. Nikita still has no hubby, the same hobby, only not her own mare to ride.We casually chat for a minute as she sells me a few...packs of my brand of shag and rolling papers.I invite her to use my horse, if she still likes to ride once in a while. Meet me in my studio!The shine in her eyes gives away she also thinks back at our first and only very erotic encounter.I pretend to enjoy the late afternoon sun at the corner in early spring with a fresh rolled smoke.Nikita. I loved that time. Freedom. Independence. Radicalism. Free expression. Explorations of life, love, sexuality.No bras.I loved that time.A contented purr comes unbidden from her as I play with her turgid nipple. She is a rail-thin waif with long brown hair, straight as a ruler, down to the middle of her back. I could smell her shampoo. She is dressed in bell-bottoms and a tie-dyed t-shirt, one bare foot rubbing up and down my shin, the other pressed tightly against my foot. Slim-hipped, her. More

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