In my own mind I would see myself running with the ball to clinch that vital touchdown, clinching victory in the last few seconds. To that inner realm...within my deeper self I would feel my fingers flying across the frets as I completed the last few bars of the killer solo in my phenomenally successful cover version of Led Zeppelin's 'The Immigrant Song'.The lack of achieving these childhood ambitions did not stunt my personal development though, as I matured through my late teens and moved into. "No, we store dry food in the cupboards," he said, pointing. I rummaged through the pantry. We had the makings for at least six dinners for two, maybe seven or eight. Breakfasts wouldn't stretch that far, and lunches would be mostly Campbell's soups and different kinds of sandwiches. Snack foods were abundant. I'd want more spices; I like spicy food, but the cupboard wasn't bare like the cupboard I walked into in John Windom's house."Do you plan meals?" I asked."No," he said.There was a. It always made himnervous when I cleaned in there, so I knew there must be somethinghidden somewhere. Turned out it was a diary, along with two keys. Thebook had all this stuff he wrote about how hot I was and how he dreamedabout my whatever he called it. Oh yeah, my 'primitive sexuality'.Ha! And it turned out that he had this kink about seeing me but notbeing able to pull his pecker or anything when he was horny, which wasall the time. So he locked his joystick up in that contraption you. He quickly realized he was over enthusiastic and tried to dial it back."You want me to shave you?" she asked."I mean, if you're not too busy."Christina looked back at her laptop for a moment. She quickly typed out a "Do Not Disturb" message and turned back to Justin. "Nope. Let's get you cleaned up."Upstairs, Justin now stood in the shower facing out as Christina sat on the edge of the tub. She had Justin's razor in hand and a bottle of shaving cream in the other. "Hold out your hand, honey.".