I was instantly attracted to her. She was white, and I'm black, so I didn't allow myself to think for a moment that she and I would ever 'get together..., in other words, to have anything remotely resembling a sexual relationship! Such an idea was, of course, a very exciting one, but I'd never been with a white woman before in my life; and though I'd seen many that I thought were gorgeous, and definitely sexually attractive, our country's long history of racism forbid me from acting on such. It's been about a month since I was last there. My company had signed on a new client located there, our biggest. I had been invited to a weekend getaway for their company and it's vendors. I had been encouraged to bring a date for the weekend and I knew exactly who I wanted to bring, my sister. On my last trip I found out she was an exotic dancer at a high class club here. She needed the extra money to pay for a nice apartment while going to school here. When I called her to ask her about. My moans as I came in the stall may have frightened off anew generation of readers. I cleaned up and left in ahurry, my face turned from the librarian. [Two hours and 17minutes until I can call Todd.]Squirming in my chair, wild images and conjecture ragingthrough my brain [what's this fucking call about anyway?],I sweated through the final minute. Todd's card had been inthe center of my desk since lunchtime. At thirty secondsuntil three, I picked up the phone. As the second handreached the 12,. There hasn't been a streetcar through here since at least 1966; I remember my boyhood sadness...Boyhood?...as the last of the cream-and-red beauties left the car barn that one final time. Yet here was a Route 64 flyer, matter-of-factly turning away. Bell clanging, big as life.I looked around trying to become oriented in time and space - that's what my therapist always says to do when I have a flashback. Flashbacks have become more prevalent lately, as I try to come to grips with.