Sorry.”“I don't mind at all.”“You sure?”“Of course,” I said. “I love the smell of sweaty hot men.”He smiled. “Do you now?”I smil...d back. “Look at me, I'm a pale white woman in my forties, of course I do.”“That’s funny,” he said.“I’m Lindsay.” I offered my hand.“Terrance.”We shook hands but didn’t say anything for a minute or so. But he saw me smiling and asked, “Have you smelled many sweaty black men before?”“Not many, just a few.”He laughed again and the driver didn’t seem to be paying. The shirt read “Led Zeppelin” but it might as well have read, “fuck me raw” because it emphasized the curve of her waist, her flat stomach, and barely concealed her breasts. “Darren, this is my daughter, Blair.”I said nothing for a moment and then regained my composure.“Blair, amazing to meet you. And how old might you be?”Blair’s eyes flicked to me, all too knowingly. Her large dark green eyes showed clearly, I get older guys like you staring at me all the time. I bet. “Almost 16.” She said,. More

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