“You can fit more fingers than that in.” She said. “Put in three.” I added two fingers, my middle and ring. She was right, they slid ineasi...y. I was nearly panting now, unable to believe what was happening, nolonger able to convince myself that this was an innocent anatomy lesson, or areligious lecture. “Move them in and out.” She told me. I did, they made a slurping,squishing sound, the friction very pleasant. “Yes.” She hissed softly. Herhand slithered out and was suddenly on my. " I said. She had never been into new-age stuff when I'd known her; I guess breaking up had reallychanged her somehow. Maybe fixing back up wasn't going to be sucha great idea."Aren't you going to try it on?" she pouted. She still lookedgreat, and she was wearing a hot pink T-shirt to go with herdenim mini; she still knew how to push my buttons."Okay, okay," I agreed. I put it on to amuse her, but I wasthinking that I needed to get to the gym."So, invite me in already." Sure," I reflexively. Then one day while in a local mall restroom I turned from the urinal to see an attractive woman washing her hands at the sink. I took the sink beside her and as I started to wash my hands, trying to act suave.I said, “I think one of us is in the wrong restroom.”To which she replied in a deep voice, “No honey, I’m in the right one,” and dried her hands, then sashayed out, those sweet cheeks swinging hard.Dopey me, I stood there as she dried her hands and left, my jaw on the sink, and the biggest. ”“I can see that, and despite playing hockey against each other, I like to consider Brad to be a good friend of mine off the ice too.”“Good friends are hard to come by.”“I’m pretty certain I know why my parents are getting divorced. My dad is seeing and is in love with another woman.”“You’re Aunt Trisha?”“No not her, a woman named Connie Armstrong. They’ve been seeing each other for about six months now. I’m pretty certain Mom doesn’t know about her. What do I do? Do I tell Mom? What if I’m.