”He still had the long hair, and beard, but they were neatly trimmed, and his clothes, though worn, were clean, and he had on brand new boots. I shook his hand, and Jen hugged him. He wanted to show us something, so we followed him, Jen walking ahead. I asked him in a low voice if the sobriety was sticking. He blushed. “I’ve slipped, twice. My sponsor got me the first time, my boss the next. He put me in the construction office and made me work the next day. I was hung over, and it was hot, but I would have died before I quit. I threw up three times and drank a gallon of water, but I made it. That was six weeks ago. The pull is still there, but It’s getting easier to control.”We reached the destination, 9th Street, the street where we first met him. He went to an old woman sitting on the curb by a shopping cart full of clothes and junk, and pulled her up. She had two mostly gray braids going down her back, wearing an old dress with tattered tails. She was tiny, I bet she didn’t weigh. As he stood in front of me, he took his top-hat off to reveal a full head of beautifully kept, dark hair as he bowed and kissed my hand. The touch of his hand made me shudder, even though it was warm and tender. He smiled a dashing, almost devilish smile that made my heart melt. I knew it was time.We walked up the long stairs to my ever-so beckoning room, wanting him to press himself against me with his masculinity and lovingness. I wanted him to touch me, and kiss me like no man has done before. I wanted him to kiss me from head to toe, wanting me to beg for his throbbing manhood.As we walked into the room, the fresh aroma of my sweet vanilla mixed with cinnamon perfume flooded our noses, making him pull me close. He brushed the hair away from my face, as I gasped for air quickly as he kissed me softly, making my whole body shudder. I began to reach for his pants, only to have him grab my hand, and wave his index at me, telling me no. He slowly walked backwards, taking off his jacket.
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