. it was awful. Years later, one day, one of my old friends of high school (we keep in contact by chat and such) asked me to go out to chill somewhere... I didn't wanted to stay being such a lonely shit... but it was for so long that I didn't go out that I was shaking just for the tought. I told her that I had a bussy month, but first day of next one we would go out, promise. She loled and we argued a bit, but it ended in "tell me when you're free then". I marked 4 weeks on my calendar, got. I’d been to the Unemployment Office twice. Both times I had been treated like a number and felt minimalized, and while I know they were overwhelmed, the employees were downright rude, not just to me, but everybody. “Fuck them.”“You need to practice. Your pool game sucks.”He just grinned.I was going to share the happy news with Gail but she had a full head of steam when I got home. Where the hell have you been? Do I smell beer? We don’t have the money for you to be drinking!”It took several deep. He didn’t even answer. I was so not wearing cute pajamas. I was totally wearing one of the t-shirts they give you when you donate blood. It didn’t matter. He picked me up like a feather and tossed me on the bed. I told him ‘you asshole you’re going to get red toenail polish all over the bed. He shocked me. He picked up the bottle and started painting them while he rubbed my feet. It reminded me of my favorite scene in kubrick’s l****a when the older man expertly painted her toes. Holy. Then she laid down on her bed. She knew he was laying down too.“What would you do if I just moaned in your ear right now?” she asked, her tone was joking but she was very curious about his answer. She was rubbing her vulva again, just like the first time they talked.“I don’t know,” he replied. “Get harder.” She giggled and took a breath. “Oh God!” she moaned, pressing her clit.“That’s not fair,” he breathed.“Oh fuck!” she moaned.“It doesn’t count if you’re not actually masturbating.”“Maybe I.