Now, her busty, sexy housemate is taking off her thong. Before I could just accept my blessings, I blurted out, “What's this about a cameraman and ...aking an audition?”“There's no camera. This isn't an audition,” Yazhi said.“Why not?” Ingrid chuckled, walking around the bed, studying me.“Wait a minute. What's going on here?” I asked.“I didn't tell him,” Yazhi said.“Didn't tell me what?”“Oh shit,” Ingrid giggled.“Mike, look around you,” Yazhi sighed. “Catalog models and indie film actresses. Once I get in, I remember. As snotty as they seem, they still intrigue me. Lean, slender, elegantly, elegantly coiffured women of all ages seem to be able to walk with their noses in the air; unseeing men around them. Others are on their cell phones; oblivious to anybody around them. Is it them or me? As a young man, driving a Porsche or Corvette, I thought I could approach almost any woman I was interested in. Now, in my seventies, they hardly see me. Occasionally I am amused / mildly insulted. I convinced her to come straight over instead of going home for her bathers first. As soon as we got home my urges kicked in. I took her in to my bedroom and casually suggested that we strip down to our underwear so we can go for a swim. I’m not sure what her expectations were, but seeing her in her underwear and knowing that we had a sexual history together drove me to get my dick out and walk straight over to her. It was easy getting her to grab it and give it a stroke, but she took some. The ding sounds as the doors creak open. Miranda is the first to exit and lead the way to her apartment door. She is talking now, trying to fill the space with idle chat about herself and her sister. Arriving at her door, Miranda unlocks and pushes it open. Her fingers scramble across the wall to the light switch. Carson follows her right in. He closes the door softly and quickly surveys the small apartment. It is simple and homely.“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks, heading into the.