When you finally come outside, wrapped in a spare robe of mine and boxers, you see me in one of the chairs, feet propped up on the ottoman, reading a ...ook and sipping coffee. You join in the chair next to me, separated by the small table. After a bit, you see my empty empty cup, and my eyes tracing along the words in the book. You push the table out of the way, and pull your chair right next to mine. Your left arm extending behind me, your large hand on the back of my neck, tickling just under. It was around 11:00 at night and she was driving her dad’s old ’72 Nova which he had passed down to her. She was the only c***d of her family, so it was only natural that she was once spoiled in her lifetime. She was a young Latina woman in her mid-twenties who decided that during her senior year of high-school, she was attracted to women more so than men. It was her choice of course, no one made her choose to love women over men, and no one forced it upon her. Her family accepted and loved her. More

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