”“We’re out of vodka; you have some wine left, or we can finish the beers we brought to the pool.”“Dammit,” she swore softly. “Honey, I�...�m really in the mood for vodka; that beer is too filling and I already feel bloated from the pool. Would you please make a run to the liquor store for me?” she requested, with just a hint of whining.“How about you, Will?” I addressed him as he was in his towel. I also noticed the lump in his towel appeared larger now. I must have been imagining things.“Vodka. She does not see much sun in a tall city, but she carries her flesh well. Rosalind’s calves are shapely, her thighs divine. Firm curves, maybe not so tight but she is no longer twenty-two, so it doesn’t matter. There is a man in her kitchen who knows it doesn’t matter. Because he knows what is between the divide of her legs, lightly browned with the darkness of her triangled hair. She moves one foot one foot away from the other, to make a small gap at the top of her curving thighs. A gap. More

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