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"what r u wearing?"
Leigh took a drag off her cigarette, and raised an eyebrow. D.C. boy was back online. It'd been a few days.
"usual," she replied. "that tank top from the photo. only, I don't think I mentioned - it's kind of dirty now, and it's been washed so many times it's also pretty see through."
"hang on," he wrote back. "hot," the conversation picked up after a moment. Leigh stubbed out her cigarette.
"how see thru?"
"just enough," she replied. "how about u?"
"hang on," he wrote again, then, after another minute, "I am wearing a suit and thinking about cupping my lips around your nipples. I'm seeing them, under that tank top."
"a suit?" she replied. "hmmm.... pinstriped?"
"gray," he replied, then - again - "hang on."
"I just licked the tip of my finger," she wrote, "and now I'm unzipping your fly..."
"FUCK," he replied, "HANG ON."
"where are u?" she wrote. "are you on the blackberry?"
"y" came the reply.
"are there lots of people around?"
"would you embarrassed by your reaction if, say, I said I was getting down on my knees in my apartment right now and taking out my vibe and - "
A long pause. Leigh got impatient, turned on the TV. Fucking George W. Bush press conference.
"OK, I'm back, wait, hang on - "
She looked back up at the TV screen. Third row, second from the left, behind the guy from the LA Times. Gray suit.
"HANG ON," the email blinked, again.
Date Written: January 23, 2005
Author: radioactive girl
Average Vote: 2.8333