And so it was that Janie and Carrie, best friends since the beginning of time, were one evening wrestling in Janie's bed. By that point, Carrie was lying on her back and Janie was sitting on Carrie's stomach. Janie was trying to get Carrie's arms pinned down alongside her head, the symbol of wrestling victory. Carrie on the other hand had her arms tightly crossed over her chest, her wrists on each breast. Janie reached under Carrie's right wrist, above her left breast. As the tug-of-war proceeded, Janie's hand slipped off the wrist and her open palm cupped Carrie's breast.Time stopped, the pendulum frozen in place. The world ceased to rotate on its axis. Birds fell silent in mid-chirp. The only sounds were the inhale and exhale of two sets of young lungs, the only movement the rise and fall of four breasts as those lungs filled and emptied. Trapeze artists hung in midair. The girls' eyes locked on one another. While neither young woman said a word, those eyes spoke volumes to each. Sharon was more of a pleasure to talk to than many of the women Martin would have considered prime bedding candidates.Then she asked out of the blue if it wasn't time for him to being looking for some hot chick to hit on. He wasn't surprised that she knew his reputation, and almost without thinking about it he shot back a glib response: what makes you think I'm not? With someone else this might have gotten just a knowing tease in return, but he knew he had miscalculated with her when he saw her face turn serious in an instant. He only half-heard what she muttered in response, but the message of it was obvious: don't make fun of me, just for your fun.Now he had to backpedal, quickly and convincingly. Without laying it on too thick, he let her know that he wasn't making fun, that he'd always thought she was kind of attractive in a different way from the others. That there was no joke in what he said, and that ... he was interested in her, if she was interested in him.She was skeptical..
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