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”“You are or you’re not, which?”“David, please!“I was angry, resentful, and downright jealous. Why was she prolonging the agony? “For God’s sake Helen, can’t you answer a simple question? Why are you torturing me like this? Either you’re in love or you’re not. If you’re not, why the fuck are you marrying him?”“Please, David, talk to me, don’t be like this. I’m in pieces now. I wish I’d done something ... I just didn’t have the energy I was so depressed...” She began to weep anguished sobs. Oh, hell!We’d gone from the most acrimonious shouting match I’d ever had with a woman, or anyone come to that, to her weeping piteously. From my limited experience I knew I could not cope with a weeping woman, no matter how I felt about her, though I was not at all sure where we were going with this: she’d all but destroyed me, because now she was surely in love with Barry. It was blindingly obvious to me now: I still loved her with all my heart and it was completely hopeless. She was breaking me up. Stepping up behind her, I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her against me, rubbing my erection into her bottom. “You know...,” I whispered into her ear, “You’d really look hot without any underwear on. Why don’t you go down to the ladies’ room and take them off, too? Later, during the movie, I’ll be able to play with your tits and pussy without your bra and panties in the way.” This time, although she protested, she didn’t complain as much as if I had asked before the stocking episode, and I continued to send out waves of horniness to her.“Maybe, but no promises,” she giggled. Hand in hand, we strolled down to the food court, but just before we got in line to order pizza, she excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. She was gone about five minutes, during which time I engaged in the always enjoyable pastime of girl watching, with the bonus of sending out commands to the girls with boyfriends that they would be especially grateful this evening. I figure that this is my little.
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