I got home after work and took a hot shower, put on some comfortable clothes and straightened up my place waiting for her to arive. After a few minute..., I heard a knock at my door. I aswered the door and Trisha stood there in a short, thin, almost see through pink curve hugging dress that was low cut revealing the cleavage of her round perky breasts. I invited her in and she put her arms around my shoulders and gave me a sudden passionate kiss. I led her to my sofa by the hand, sat down and she. ”“You’ve got lots of girls – real girls, not fake ones, like me.”“Don’t tear yourself down. Most of those girls have nothing on you.”“Jeez, now you’re really embarrassing me.”“Let me take you out to dinner, Lynn”“Just let me change into some normal clothes, Matt.”“No, babe, just like this.”“God, I can’t go out in public like this.”“Sure you can, baby. You look absolutely stunning.”“What if someone sees me – recognizes me?”“No one will recognize you as that nerdy guy.”“Doesn’t it bother you to. You know, long hair, OP shirt and shorts, Vans "slip on" shoes. But I had no idea of the real world around me. But I was to soon find out. It was in the evening and it had gotten dark out. I didn't have a place to crash, so I decided to sleep under the pier. You could go under santa Monica pier in those days. That when I met Tony. He was a 34 year old black man and he offered me a place to stay rather than sleep out there. He explained that it would be dangious for me to be out all night alone.. She wanted to linger with her feelings, to keep the weight of her past and future off her shoulders. She got back into bed and allowed the music to seem into her soul. Sometimes it would be easier if she had someone by her side but she loved the struggle of trying to make it on her own. But there was no way to relieve her pain except through solo sex and lots of work. But nothing seemed to permanently ease those painful times. One of those times had been when her husband Mark had died in a car.
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