But, for the moment, they were gone.Umberto jumped off the Bradley and ran the short distance to the other vehicle. "What should we do?" he asked Raym...nd."We go back," Raymond said. "They got rockets. We've gotta take these Bradleys inside with us, until we need to use them again. If we leave them out, they'll hit them, eventually."Wisely, the people we'd left behind had pulled down the big metal door on the underground garage, but when they saw us approaching, a gesture from Raymond brought. I also put one of those red playboybunny stickers on my chest. (You HAVE to put the sticker in the sameplace every time because if it slips that bunny is going to look likeAbraham Lincoln.)I also HAVE to do this free form kind of peripheral wandering in mywords here because it comes naturally to me. I don’t pay attention tomost people around me, I’m terrible with names and worse with numbers,and I really do think about what kind of mascara to use sometimes.It’s also a. I hardly ever came.” Then Stacy, exacerbated, laments out loud, “Shit, why do boys are so selfish, all they can think of themselves, and never think about making us feel good.”“Well it’s your own fault. I don’t know why you stuck with him so long. I told you, a long time ago, if he hadn’t gone down on you by now, he’d never go down on you. Why you stayed with him as long as you did is beyond me.”Stacy opens up her own locker and starts to put her books away and then replies, “Oh, I didn’t say. He is going to try to tell me that sex with his wife is horrible because he just saw me naked and he wants to get into my pants. Holy shit! This is so lame.“But not good for the sex life huh?” I asked, already knowing the answer. After all guys like this one, dime a dozen. Relief washed across his face and he looked over at me, well parts of me. Self consciously I looked down and noticed that what little breasts I had were perfectly visible through the shirt, it had shrunk. Yes, they must have.