.. from the book too?” and he said “Yes, but originally from an old poem. About a woman who meets and has sex with a stranger” and I said “Oh,...ok” again.“O Jenny's wet, poor body, Jenny's seldom dry” he said.“From the poem” he said. “Do you like poetry?” and I said “Not really” and he wouldn't let go of the book like he didn't really want me to have it or just didn't want me to take it and leave and then he said “That's too bad. Some poems can be quite... erotic” and suddenly I felt this. Eric asked me to sing. I wasn't really in the mood, but the rest of my friends kept pushing me and finally I agreed to sing something.The problem was I was in a sad mood and thinking about Jeff. I decided to sing a sad song. It was 'Missing You', which had been sung by a number of famous singers.When on the stage and the bright lights are on you it is hard to see beyond the front row of tables. There were always people coming in and leaving. Most were nice enough not to leave during someone's. Trust me, he's a whole new man in the little time we've spent together. He's found a purpose for his life now. The extra night made the difference I believe. Thank you again, Cully."I thought about inquiring as to what that "purpose" was exactly, but, she plowed thru my place in the queue."Cully, I want to ask a favor, a biggie, honey."Uh, oh, another day? Well, at least she beat me to it, I was going to offer another day without the request."Cully, would it be okay if we had Tommy over for. A redhead, dressed entirely in slinky lingerie—slutwear, she’s always called it, but now that doesn’t seem like a completely negative term. The redhead is fondling her husband, and rubbing against him, and the bastard is responding to her caresses! She sees there are openings in the slutwear—cutouts for the nipples, a slit in the panties—and she catches glimpses of the crinkly breast buds when they’re not dragging across her husband’s chest. She clearly sees the woman’s completely bare pussy.