This F-Man peeked my curiosity and my emotions. I paced around our house. It was getting late and I needed to write him, I needed more, I was still in...disbelief. This isn’t the same women. I started writing, “ F-Man , This really doesn’t sound like my girl, sorry. It sounds more like some cheap slut from the street. I need pictures, a video. I need hard proof. Not this fucking BS you keep sending me. I don’t fucking believe you, maybe you do know her but that’s probably it. Proof!! As I. But I desperately want to have a chance to talk to you. Could we meet in the cafeteria for lunch sometime soon?" To try to coax her I added, "That's completely public and completely safe." I, I, I'd like that," she stammered. "I can't do it tomorrow, but maybe on Thursday?" OK, I'll send you an IM a little after twelve, and then," I grinned, "we can sort of accidentally end up there at the same time." It's a deal." She winked at me and was gone.Over the next two weeks we had lunch together, not. More

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