She was sitting all alone and eagerly accepted the invitation. We started right where we had left off and this time I did my best to get her as horny as she was making me. The more I thought about it the more I wondered if she hadn't been doing it on purpose.It didn't make sense to me but it sure seemed that way. Three notes into the song my leg was between hers and my erection was rubbing her thigh. She just sighed and held me tighter. I could feel the heat of her mound as I explained hearing about her transportation problem and offered her a ride home with us. I didn't have to twist her arm. Music teachers weren't paid that much, especially new ones and saving the cab fare would be nice.She didn't have a roommate and rented a small place from a woman she rarely even saw. I even got that promise of an extra dance at my house. She whispered in my ear "please call me Angie when we're not at school. I wish I could get by with it there. I hate all that "Miss" crap. It makes me feel like. Another toast!”They raised their glasses and drank heartily.“And that’s not all,” her look indicated something big was to follow.“I’m on the edge of my seat; you found a place to live?”She inched closer to the table. “I met a man.”The world as he knew it, as he wanted it to be, fell away. The table began to spin. There was not enough room in his body for both her words and for air. He felt sick.“You OK?” she asked.“A bit too much wine in that last toast,” he scrambled to regain his composure like a boxer trying to make it to the bell after suffering a first round knockout blow. Feigning a cough he grabbed a glass of water sitting untouched next to his wine and gulped half of it down. “I’ll be OK.” He didn’t want to know the answer to the question he was about to pose. “Who is this lucky man?” Each word deadened his soul. He felt himself drift away.His reaction didn’t dampen her palpable excitement. She described a Hollywood Don Juan: sleek, blinged out, a man on the make poised to.
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