“Why?” I whispered, almost afraid of the answer.You didn’t answer. You just touched me. Your hands getting more and more bold, running under my ...ighty and over my panties. You started pausing on my flat chest to feel my c***dish nipples and then you would cup my tiny mound through my panties. I understood this is why you were sorry, but didn’t understand why – what it meant – why were you touching me? Why were you crying?I just watched – afraid to move. You were so strange. And then as your. Js face. Nothing Cindy, what are you doing here?! I said. I usually walk home with my best friend Josie. She replied, What am I doing here? Well, if you werent in here doing something you should not be doing, then you would have remembered our date to go shopping! Oh. That was all I could say. Yeah, oh, is that all you can say. She replied. Lets go. Ok. I said. As we were turning to leave Cindy turned around and said to Mr. Jackson, Oh, and Mr. Jackson, if I ever catch you with or even talking. She finally confronted him with her suspicions. He was working on a project, and NO, he was not fucking around on her. She needed someone who she could talk with over a few drinks.I wandered over. She was sitting at the kitchen island, looking very drunk, relaxed and with a huge glass of wine in front of her. She ran her fingers through her long thick hair, and invited me in, I sat on a stool beside her. She leaned over, her boobs in a low cut top pressing against her to spill out. Her legs. The dream was over but he could not wake up. He seemed to exist between worlds and riding a razor's edge.For a moment he felt his bones take on substance in the dream world, then the opposite happened.He came back to the real world but it was a fantasyland. When he tried to touch something his hand went through it.He was getting increasingly anxious and frantic as he swayed back from one reality to the other out of sync.He was a pendulum lost in time and space. When he popped into the real.