Nothing. There we a handful of regular Joes still walking home from work but no one spying on me that I could tell. I found his flat and pressed to be...let in the building - I tried to talk on the intercom but the door just buzzed and that was that. This is the bit where you need balls of steel to see it through. It's weird because your horny, like the idea but now thinking of the opposite end of the spectrum at the same time. It could turn bad quickly. I walked up to his flat and the door. Not long passes before you hear me let myself and Sean in. You hear us chatting about our workout but don’t pay much attention.“I’ll just show Sean to the ensuite are and let him shower in there and I‘ll take the main shower. We won’t be long.”Sean drops his bag and follows me to the bedroom. A second or two later you hear me leave the bedroom to the shower room. It doesn’t take long before I finish in the shower and pop into the living room dressed in only a towel. You can see the effects. ”“Even me?” I say jokingly. She stops mopping completely now, her back to me.“I’m not doing that.” She says.“Well you are my ‘slave’, right?” A long pause.“Well I guess you’re right.” She turns around.“I’m only joking.” I say.“No, you were right. I want a good grade and if you really want it.” I don’t say anything. She drops the mop and walks over to me. She goes behind my desk and turns my chair out and puts her hands on my knees. “Is this what you want?” she asks. I don’t say anything. I. And like all of our arguments, whatever they were about, this one escalated into tickling and sometimes I won those, and sometimes he did. On that particular day, when we were sixteen years old, Steve was winning. Sitting on my tummy, my bare tummy as we were wearing bathing suits and mine was a bikini, a modest one, but still a bikini. And he tickled my exposed ribs, making me admit that I was wrong. I gasped happily when he finally stopped, red faced and smiling and hot, and my soft blue eyes.