The hem fell half way down her thighs and was edged by a layer of white lace. Her legs were covered by sheer white nylon from the hem down to her feet... where she wore pink patent 3 inch heels with a thick ankle strap. In her hands, with their pink painted nails she clutched at a small white bag.“Can I come in?” She giggled. “Or are you just going to stand there staring at me all night?”“O-of course,” he replied snapping out of his trance. “Come in.” She stepped in and moved passed him. He. Bruce was another reason Missy lost out on some work. Bruce and Missywere a package deal - they were close, too close in many people'sopinion. He was always there, hovering around, usually within armsreach. A few times people had tried to corner Missy, to talk to heralone, but it never worked; before they could get a sentence out Brucewould burst in and take her away. Some people thought they saw fear inher eyes.Others, however, saw something else- soul-mates. So Bruce was thejealous type? So. So, I started to massage her shoulders, her backside facing me. It must have felt good, because I heard her moaning a little. I asked if she was okay, and she replied ‘mm-hmm.’ So I continued. As I continued to massage, I pulled her back so she was laying on my chest. I massaged her forehead, and her eyes, then her head. Went back to her shoulders, and worked on her arms and hands. I continued to massage in that manner for a while, and then my hands found their way to the front of her body. I. What was the draw? Was it me? If The Girl, Patricia Wyman -- "Patti" -- was there to watch me play third base, she wasn't giving me any sign of it. I had been watching her a lot more intently than she was watching me.After that make-up rain date doubleheader with the Tigers, we had a much-needed day off at home before beginning a series with Kansas City. My main plan for the day was to sleep late and go to bed early, but around noon, I had a brainstorm and checked out the University of Maryland.