She was middle-aged and conservatively dressed, her hair pulled up to a nice updo. She was wearing some cat-eye glasses that reflected in the dark roo... and gave her a grandmotherly look, even though she couldn't be much older than myself. "It's that you don't know how to write properly," she began her tirade. "You should use more descriptive words, and spend more time building up. Writing about how something feels, smells, sounds... all those things are important. Frankly, I'm hugely. John simply told me to watch and after the compulsory singing of happy birthday to you the orchestra stopped and every body was quiet. Suddenly the top of the cake burst open and a woman dressed in what I would call a very business-like suit came through it to cat calls and the drummer playing and people clapping. She looked to be in her early twenties and stepped onto a side step then jumped down onto the floor. She had long blonde hair and swayed about the young man on the chair. Once she. She needed to get away andfast. She secured the base, left a note, then ran off away from the basewhile keeping out of sight of anybody who might be observing the base.She ran for 20 miles northeast away from Providence before she had tostop and relax, he body aching and feeling the impact of the strain onher arms and legs from the long run. She was in the middle of the woods,somewhere in Norfolk County, MA by her estimation based on the distanceand heading, and among rural farms where nobody. I'd never forgotten the mystery of the dark triangle, either. It had not escaped my notice that the utter blackness of Ginny's hair had extended itself to the hair between her legs. Every chance I got, which were not nearly as many as I would have liked, I stole glances at her pubic area when she was in panties, the large, womanly kind, not the bikinis I'd experience in later life. I'd look for those stray wisps of blackness coming out from under those white sheer panties, and become.