Summer, or more correctly Charlotte, had lapsed into a sullen silence after I regaled her with the story of how I first got a date with Phoebe; her he...ring me working on a song in the woods, stopping to chat – and to my astonishment, admiring my work. I had persuaded her to sing along and recorded her voice, and as a reward promised her pizza. I’d stopped at that point – getting lost in memory.More worryingly than Summer’s attitude, I realised that she was sliding her butt forward and slumping. That’s not me – not me at all. I dream about naked girls all the time, even when I’m awake, but as far as night dreams are concerned unless I do something about it I wake up in the morning with a mess in my bed. That’s more work because I have to try and get the mess cleaned off before mother sees it. Thinking of mother, I sometimes wonder how father managed to impregnate her. Perhaps mother lured him on by getting him to count her pubic hairs and he was temporarily overcome sufficiently to. Then he did the samewith his other hand to my left, then the top and back of my head, andback to the right. The sequence repeated: right, left, top, and back.Right left, top, and back. I felt my hair lengthening with each stroke.Soon it was brushing the tops of my shoulders, then draping over them,and extending down my back.His fingers moved to my face. They swept across my newly framed forehead,reshaped my eyebrows, remolded my nose, and adjusted my cheeks. With thepalms of his hand, he swept. ”“Yes, Ma’am.”As Michael / Hawk lead the two women toward their suite, Brenda asked, “Dancer?”Maria, knowing Brenda had no interest in football, answered, “It was a nickname carried over from when he played football.”“Oh, OK,” a puzzled Brenda replied. Then, as she thought Football? Dancer?, Brenda shook her head and shrugged.On the way to the suite Michael and Maria showed Brenda the conference / meeting room and the smaller rooms which were intended for individual interviews. She was.