My eye was caught by a woman in a polka dot dress. She was playing on her phone, and seemed uninterested in everything going on. Her freckles cascaded...across her shoulders and down her arms beautifully. The receptionist seemed to be busy on her phone. I stood up, pretending to check the magazines laid out for guests and moved closer.I stole a peek down her top, catching a glimpse of the nipples inside. I was trying my best to not be noticed before sitting down next to her. She continued to play. She looked down to see what he could see. He could see almost everything. The white material was almost translucent now. Her dark nipples were clearly visible against her light breasts, which also served to highlight the dark valley of her substantial cleavage. Lower, the soaked material clung to her stomach, hips and thighs; making them all the more appealing in their partially covered state. He held his hands up in a way that he hoped she would misconstrue as surrender. She lowered the. "I'm Janice." Hello, Janice." I couldn't help repeating her own greeting. What is it about another person whom we admire that causes us to imitate him or her in some small way; causes us almost against our will; carries us on the flight of an impression.So we began a relationship. We spoke of Randy and of his love for hot-dogs. We spoke of his age; he was two years and three months. We spoke of trivialities and the sea, the sand, and everything inconsequential in the world, it seemed. And I had. “But… it wasn’t exactly everything I’d been hoping for. And that’s why I need to talk to you.”Half of me wondered why I needed to be part of this conversation, while the other half had a sneaking suspicion that I already knew the answer to that. “Wasn’t everything you’d been hoping for? What, is my brother a lousy lay?” I joked, trying to play it off.“No, not at all. It was good, it was special, it was everything your first time with your boyfriend is supposed to be… well, almost everything.”.