At the end of the first period, Florida was winning by 11 points and I bought him a drink. As we toasted each other I turned toward him again and made sure that my skirt rode up a bit and my stocking tops and garter belt were showing and he definitely noticed and did not know whether to look at my legs or my tits thru the sheer blouse. He then said that I was one sexy woman and I said thank you and leaned toward him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Now I was acting as though I was starting to get a bit tipsy and started acting really cocky and saying to him that my team was going to come back and that his team was no good and he wanted to make another bet, so I said sure, what do you want to bet. He said whoever looses buys dinner and I said fine. We were now having a good time and I was casually touching his arm and occasionally placing my hand on his thigh as we talked. He was also getting more friendly and was now touching my shoulder and giving me a hug every now and. The co-op idea had sounded inviting when Ginny had been told of the apartment—but she already was learning the downside of that. The first-floor apartment in her section of the townhouses was owned by a crotchety old man who Ginny had, thus far, principally experienced by the view of his bent back and a broad rear as he flounced back into his apartment from their shared foyer and slammed his door. Ginny had found several things that needed immediate attention when she had moved in—a leak in the roof tiles, plumbing that banged and balked, and a broken step on the stairs down to the street from the entry. And she had quickly learned that in a co-op arrangement, these had to be commonly addressed. But so far, Mr. Richards, on the first floor, snapped and retreated at any mention of a common solution to the problems—and the couple who owned the third floor apartment apparently weren’t even in residence. There was a smaller apartment in the English basement, but Ginny saw as she was.
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