My bare feet peeped from under the hem and I curled my toes into the grass. I had on a loose blouse of some material that looked like linen, but like ...he skirt, felt like silk. I touched the ringlets of my hair that tumbled down over my shoulders. I felt like I could not stand still. I lifted my arms and danced around. I sobered for a moment. Or rather, I tried. Even as I asked the question foremost in my mind, a reservoir of elation kept bubbling up from deep inside me. ‘Dead? Ahh, that’s not. Three photographs, not one. Apparently some passing hiker had indeed witnessed Asmedogh's crash and had the presence of mind to pull out his camera or cell phone or whatever. The flier itself, pretty badly bunged up but still recognizable, was clearly visible in the first two, both showing Asmedogh working his way out. The third had apparently been taken the same instant that the flier self-imploded, the flash clearly illuminating Asmedogh a short distance away manfully—well,. I could barely control my curiosity as I slowly leaned forward and tried to sneak a glimpse of the man in the stall next to me. As I leaned forward and focused on what lay behind the hole, the first glimpse I get is of a very hairy and well defined forearm slowly moving up and down. As the forearm moves down I get a glimpse of hairy chest and hairy abdomen that may have a couple extra pounds on them but definitely masculine, and very hot. He had nice dark nipples topped with hard pea sized. I’m at a motel in the valley, about an hour away. I guess we need to talk.’ His voice was level and unemotional, and yet inside, he was in turmoil. ‘Yes, Brent, yes … we do need to talk. Please come home. I need you so much. I need to talk to you. I can’t handle being here alone … without you. Please come home.’ The desperation was clear now. ‘Alright, Jeanette. Are the kids in school?’ ‘Yes. We can be alone. Is that what you want?’ ‘Yes. We need to talk. We don’t need them to hear this.’ A.
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