They probably see me and think they’re going to be ravished. In their dreams!Other women smile and study me. They’re measuring and assessing - am ... as rough as the jeans, shirt, and cowboy boots suggest? They inspect my clothes for signs of a poseur and, when they see that my jeans are well worn and there’s no fashion label on my shirt, their smiles grow. Occasionally, one will stop and flirt.I’m a handsome cad. A full head of silver hair helps. I have no shame. I flirt right back. It makes. She’d had her share of boyfriends, one anyway, to whom she almost surrendered her cherry several years earlier. Since then her life had been scripted to follow the same monotonous cycle, work, home, sleep, work, home, sleep, and parents and siblings for the holidays. There had been a time when she thought she’d find her piece of the American dream, the nice house on the quiet street with the husband, and the kids. She thought about it still, but she knew she was running out of time. ‘On a. " Well it would solve that awkward first date thing," Helen said. "I don't know about Peter?" Yeah what about Peter. What's in it for me." Peter asked."Clean clothes, hot food, and hot and cold running sex, what more could any man ask for?" Trish commented."Well, I have to admit it sounds good. It's not like I'm giving up my dream apartment or anything," Peter said. The truth was that it was a small upgrade. The downside was he would be expected to fix the dripping sinks and her house badly. You slam your shoulder into the broken door and barrel through just as the creature leaps at you.You curse and scramble back on your ass, watching it flail and roar and reach for you, hunger in its dark eyes - but it's stuck. It's too wide, and its body is jammed between the house and the thick fence on its left.It nicks your forearm with the tip of its claw and you curse at it, scrambling further back and finally pulling your rifle off your shoulder. The old thing is rickety, held together.