She was great to talk to; she would really listen. Over the months I was there, we really opened up to each other. Sometimes we would talk until after...mid-night.As we sat there talking, two men in their twenties walked into the Outreach. They were wearing their gang colors.I got up and up and approached them. I said, "You guys know that we don't allow colors here." I wear my colors everywhere I go," the obvious leader said."Well then you will have to leave," I said pointing to the door.The. 'She'll be more open to suggestion' I assumed. 'She might just laugh off a clumsy come on from an inexperienced young man like me' I told myself. All these things I told myself to hide the fear I felt.At about 12.30am I heard her key in the door. Fear came to me now. Fear of doing what I was about to do and fear that I would end up looking like a complete fool. In she walked looking so fucking sexy it made me want to praise the god I don't even believe existed. She was wearing a black dress. The friend was worried that the contents might be dangerous so he retreated up the beach and watched the bottle through binoculars until the metal was almost gone. He walked back to the bottle and touched the thin piece of metal left. It broke and a cloud came out of the bottle.’ ‘What sort of cloud?’ ‘A very odd cloud. It didn’t move with the wind.’ ‘Did you, sorry, your friend, breathe any of the cloud?’ ‘No. I, er he, had retreated upwind of the bottle. The cloud formed immediately above it. Her ample, but not large breasts straining against a tight black sweater, and then she sashayed away. I was so caught up in the perfection of her body and the grace and assurance of how she moved that I couldn’t be sure if she had cast me a dismissive glance or if I had merely imagined it. This kind of deflating defeat was the risk of my little game. Now I had to decide whether to continue my pursuit, or be satisfied with whatever mental sketch I could build and hold in my fevered mind. I.