And many of them are not looking for one-night or even one-week stands. That is fine with me because there is still some need for romance in my jaded ...oul.I met one such woman in June 1992 after a long dry spell. It was at a highly unlikely place for romance to bloom: an auto-driving school. My role in that organization, The Supreme Driving School, was as one of the instructors. I don’t know why this lady picked me, but she knew what she wanted and she got it.In addition to being divorced, I. I caught her out of the corner of my eye stuffing something into a small backpack before she came back over to me and asked if I was ready to head out.We set out a rough trail that was hardly used for all I could tell and headed up to the woods. I could hardly keep my eyes off her and she knew it! She strode with a heavy swing in her hips that made her ass all the more appealable. More than once I gave her a gentle spank as we walked which only seemed to make her moan and growl huskily under. And him,” she gestured toward Tom, “He’s hard not to look at.”Beverly stood up and walked over to Polly. Taking Polly’s glass, she put it on the table. She took Polly’s hands in hers and moved close to her, close enough that Polly could feel her breath on her cheek and smell the wine on her lips. “Would you like me to kiss you?” “Yes,” Polly said, blushing a little. Beverly leaned forward. Smiling, she took Polly’s face in her hands and brought her lips slowly to Polly’s. Their mouths opened. “It’s the rules,” Robert replies. “As much as I hate this fucking place, I need it. If I break the rules then I’ll be out on my ass like you.”“On my ass?” the elderly man asks. “I ain’t one of those piss drunks that kill people lie that fucker there.” He then points up at the television.Robert steps closer to the bar, closer to the man, close enough to smell the putrid smell of alcohol on his breath. On the television is the news and on it is a picture and a story about another drunk driver.