..and besides, we agreed on a week, right?"Clovis hung his head, embarrassed, and nodded. Saturday night, I provoked him abit. We went to a party where there was dancing, and I wore a red dress with aVERY low cut top. I danced with lots of Clovis's friends...and some of theyounger men there as well. I'm thirty-three, Clovis is fifty-two, and back thenI was in my early twenties, and quite in demand.Clovis tried pathetically to compete by asking young women to dance with him,but it was ludicrous...they were busy dancing with young men! Or sometimes,dancing with other women!And when we were sitting around having drinks, I flirted heavily with TeddyGranger, a young stockbroker, dropping my hand on his leg. "God I wish Clovishad your energy, Theodore...." I teased. Clovis sat sadly next to his mother,who had shown up as she knew the hostess...it was very difficult watching myflirting!At one point Clovis got me in the bathroom and I gave him several hot tonguekisses. "P-please don't flirt. Starting from his sandal covered feet, he wore a pair of navy-striped sleep pants over his tall legs, and a stretched out tank-top undershirt which did nothing to hide his broad and muscular shoulders and tattooed arms. He was quite the good-morning package except for the scraggly nest of mouse-brown hair crowning his head. Also, somewhere beneath all that facial fur must have been his chiseled jaw and perhaps a pair of lips which he rarely opened to speak to her, anyway. She scoffed, “Wow. You're a real emergency, huh?” Vasily offered a mute shrug. As he walked into her apartment, he handed her a piece of paper. Carie was familiar with it. Three months ago, at the tail-end of a late night drinking binge with a couple of girlfriends at her apartment, months of pent up frustration of trying to gain the attentions of her beefcake neighbour across the hall in apartment seven had finally come to a head. Carie needed to vent, and she took it out on the ubiquitous shag on his face. It.
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