The spaces there are all reserved, and he has his own spot.As we walk across the underground garage, our heels echo loudly. Witha smile, John says, "... love your shoes." Now I know for certain he isa crossdresser.We go up to the third floor. Our office occupies the whole floor.There is a receptionist. A pretty girl named Susan at a desk by thedoor. John takes us for a tour of the office. I am introduced to manypeople, and by the end, I can't remember most of their names. Thereare about 25. His thin yet strong arms. His wide chest. His six-pack. The light hair on his chest, his tummy, his legs.There was only one thing blocking my view.His underwear.I could feel a tell-tale wetness in my crotch.My nipples got hard.My breath heavy.I even forgot the thunderstorm outside.I don’t know why I did what I was doing next.Lars and me had drunken a few couple of beers this night, so we had been really drunk. Maybe I still was tipsy, and therefore not thinking straight.But with shaky hands, I. . didn’t used to be, but kids and fingers.That map is a pretty decent representation of what lies ahead if you’re driving to Cody and Yellowstone. More than one wife has ended their Yellowstone vacation in Sheridan.“I am NOT going up that road!”“Why not?”“It’s tiny! It’s narrow! And on the edge of a drop off.” Here she would point out just how steep the drop off is. Like I said ... it’s 3-D and pretty big“It’ll be safe, I’m driving.”“Even better reason to just stay here!”“It’ll be okay.”“Have. Here she was, forcing me to be sociable again. To revive old skills. Skills put away and forgotten long ago. Skills I had believed not useful anymore.It was exciting and scary at the same time. I had not been a very good friend "back in the day". I had always been selfish. Never thought about my friends. Never really been interested in what was going on in their lives.Yet now, here was this woman that barged into my serene life and mixed the soup without asking. She through rocks into my pond.