He noticed that it had sticky tape wrapped around the handle. Well worn sticky tape. That was interesting. The only people who needed sticky tape were...people who were power hitters. It kept the racquet from twisting in the grip. His eyes went to her right hand, but it was bare of a glove. She wasn't sweating, either. She had just arrived.While he was examining her, she examined him too. He was taller than she was, by a couple of inches. Out of his suit, he looked rugged, rather than beefy. His. Then Marilyn moved her hands to the back of the waistband and started pushing them even lower. I was having a heart attack! She stopped after just an inch, calling back, "Can you see the tan line yet? These darn things are always riding up. Make sure you cover to it."I didn't think to fib. I couldn't think of anything. I was mesmerized by that line where her skin turned from amber to alabaster. And the first half-inch hint of the declivity between her cheeks. I finally managed to remind myself. "For a moment, I didn't know what to say. In some unconscious way, I think I already knew it, but hearing her say this out loud had caught me off guard. Sure, I had noticed that the way how she sometimes looked at me had felt more than just the look of a good friend. However, I wasn't sure how to respond to her confession, but in the end, I thought that my actions would explain it better than I could tell her in words.I moved closer to her and when I was sitting next to her, I moved my face. Nearing towards me, I felt another pounding deep in me… but it was from somewhere down lower. I shook the feeling away as he stood in front of me, with that goofy, boyish smile across his (now I noticed) wet, pert lips. “Hi.” He was obviously happy to see me. I only managed a small smile, looking deep into his brown eyes. Right then and there I knew I could have melted. But as usual, I kept myself on guard, always at a distance. I never wanted for him to see right through me, I’m always afraid.
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Fifteen minutes later, I was waiting in front of the house by the car, grumbling silently in my mind about how women take too long to get ready, even
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