In the moonlight coming though the window, I saw she was wearing a black sports bra, along with her black lace pants, and she looked down at her bra, ...nd back up at me. I unclipped Krista’s bra, and slipped it off her, dropping it on the floor with her dress, and then I looked at her perky, firm, rounded breasts. “They’re lovely,” I said, as I gently fondled both breasts with my hands, stroking the nipples with my thumbs.“They’re sensitive, too,” Krista whispered, looking down at her own. She decided that she would not add more personal information. No mention of family would be made. They chatted briefly about innocuous things but the subtext of what was going on was completely at odds with the calm surface. He was her type: dark, handsome, smart and funny with the hint of wry cynicism of many New Yorkers. She supposed that she was his type given that he had chosen her. Now their conversation would tell whether they meshed. They talked about travel, their mutual interest in. More

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