"Up here, darling. I'm standing at the bow."He pulled on some shorts and ran up the stairs. She looked like she did when he found her looking out the ...icture window back in Long Island after the night they first made love. She had been wearing his shirt and a pair of panties. This morning he found her still nude from the night before. When he reached her side, she turned and smiled."Look darling, fish flying from our wake." That's why they call them flying fish," he chortled. "You'll be seeing. .I can tell you how it feelsin multitudes of waysTo not wanna be realto want to fade awayI can show you howmy inner being drownedFrom being in this townfrom staying on the groundEveryones an alpha dogalways looking down Never eat the scrapsjust leave them on the groundI often danced to soundslike no one was aroundTo noise they couldn't heartill no one was around..My mind keeps forgettinghow to breathe rightFor while others air goIn and outout and inIn a simple function of normalityMine falters. She still kinda is, but she has changed a lot already. I finally realized one morning how her breasts were a little bigger. Not very big, but bigger than I ever remember. That, and I know she wears thongs almost all the time, and she DOES have a cute little ass to show off. She had even been turning into a wannabe slut or something. The stuff she wore was very revealing and I couldn't help but notice. Anyway, we were now alone, which had occured many times before similar to this situation, but. She had ginger hair, a round face liberally sprinkled with freckles, and a pair of pale blue eyes which regarded me dispassionately over a snub nose and wide mouth. Her chin could be compared to that of a female Tyson. Judging by the heft of her she would have been a match for Mike, in or out of the ring.She stuck out her hand and shook mine, vigorously."Hello, Mister Desmond, I'm Philomena Quinn, Miss Walsh's PA." Her voice, although well-educated, held an echo of the dulcet tones of an Ulster.