” “Yeah, like tweeting Rita Ora. You are such a celebrity whore, you know. Just because she replied to that tweet of yours about liking broccoli, ...ou think she’s your best friend forever.” “Look, can’t we find somewhere to shelter,” I grumbled, trying to change the subject. “Or at least let me squeeze up under your brolly. Just look at me.” “I am, you really shouldn’t have worn that t-shirt, especially without a bra.” “Oh for fuck’s sake,” I said, looking down at my chest. My tight white. I even imagine, even fantasize, that she is beside me in bed as I am lying there like she used to be. Her long tanned smooth legs stretched out beside mine. I used to love to trace up them with my fingers until I found the thin landing strip that led to pure erotic goodness. Her firm breasts, in all their perkiness with their stiff nipples poking out into the air, gave sense that she was more than just a sexual being. She was all woman. God, I missed her. I had to have her back. Even if I just. More

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