But for a week I'd come to a dead end. Again and again. I had 23 stories just one or two paragraphs long. I had a half a forest of crumpled up floppie... in the wastebasket. I was mixing my metaphors, dang ling my participles, and even dropping vowls! It was like I had incontinence of the keyboard. Lucky for you there's no "Shit" icon, or your screen would be a mess right now.My system wasn't working right, and something had to give. That's why I walked into the topless club. I needed a change. I. She’d taken off her leggings; they lay discarded by the mats. Her underwear matched the aqua crop top perfectly, but they were Brazilian style lace, clearly not fit to be worn as gym shorts.He stood before her grinning, no longer confused. Finally, he was taking the hint. She was glad the kissing hadn’t caused Mark to freak out and abandon their session, or that he didn’t seem put off by her bold move of removing her leggings. It was now or never, time to make the bold move she’d been plotting.. More

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