... yeah ... I can imagine," I said sardonically. She gave me a sly look. "I *thought* I'd noticed a hard-on in your pants when you left the bathroom." I looked down and groaned to myself. This is embarassing, albeit quite exciting. "Being curious and nosy, I took your pornography in the bathroom with *me*, and I read through it." She reached in her bag and pulled out a folder. "I like this stuff, Al. You have good taste." I nervously looked down and thanked her. Did she masturbate in the bathroom like me? Did she just go there for privacy? Did she like the porn for literary reasons, or was it sexually exciting to her? These and other questions raced through my mind. My thoughts were interrupted as she continued, "So, did you write those typewritten ones?" "Yes, I did." I nervously fidgeted around. "Are they autobiographical?" I groaned again. This was so very difficult. But this looked like it was leading to something quite interesting, so I pressed on. "Well ... not really ... I mean, they aren't based on anything that really happened. They're ... they're fantasies ... you know, wishful thinking." I was pained to think that I was so sexually inexperienced and insecure that I had no real experiences to match up my fantasies. I was pained all the more because she now could infer that I probably masturbated to the porn, too. She looked at me for a moment as if sizing me up, and then said, "I was hoping that you'd say that, Al." I looked up at her quizzically, and she continued. "You know, about your wishful thinking." She paused for a moment and gave me a meaningful gaze and said, "You see, Al, I like men like you." "Oh?" I said hopefully but also suspiciously. "Yes, Al. I do." Her demeanor was totally serious. "I can tell from this stuff ..." motioning to the folder, "... that you probably could really appreciate a woman like me." I was quite happy about how things were working out. This sure as hell looked like she was going to offer herself to me sexually, but I still was trying to not let my hopes get too high. |