’ ‘Then you need to think what you want to change about yourself, Reginald. Is there anything?’ ‘I am lonely sometimes…’ ‘I’m not surp...ised. You don’t have a social life. You work and you walk an empty beach with a metal detector — alone. Who do you talk to apart from colleagues at work?’ ‘No one.’ ‘You need to change that. You should meet people and interact with them. Why don’t you?’ ‘I find it very hard to chat, to make social conversation, to mingle…’ ‘Perhaps if you tried it wouldn’t be so. His days on the social sidelines in high school had helped Greg develop acouple of other traits. First, he sympathized with the less popular andnot among the "beautiful" people. The ones who fit into that categorystrived to stand out and be more beautiful. And most of these people weregirls. Greg was the nice guy, the confidant, the boy who was always thereto listen for the girls who generally didn't belong to the cliques anddidn't get asked to school dances or out on dates.While he yearned for. She started the shower. She started to disrobe. Midway through disrobing, she got her phone. She got the camera out. She thought about it. She was in her bra and shorts. She looked at herself in the mirror. She thought about it. Was it worth it? She shrugged and said to herself, “Fuck it.”She took a selfie of her cleavage. She looked at herself some more. The shower ran on. She took off her shorts, revealing her purple form fitting panties. Feeling increasingly sexy, she switched the camera on. The next morning I got up early, showered,shaved my legs, trimmed my pubic hair, oiled my whole body so it was smooth, and dressed in a pair of shorts and a shirt. Underneath had on a white lacy bra and skimpy panties. About 10.30 I went out into the the backyard, which was very private as it had a huge fence around it and lots of bushes and trees. I lay down on a lounger, had a glass of wine at had, a cooler at my side and a book. About 11.00 I heard them start at the front of the house which.