She absentmindedly reached down and scratched the sole of her foot; her bright-red fingernails whispered along the nylon, the hissing sound was nearly...lost in the background din of the office.Nearly lost that was. In the adjoining cubicle forty-five year old Harold Rheems could hear a woman’s nylons rustle over the length of a football field. He was a devoted nylon fetish and he was delighted to know that the woman in the adjoining cubicle was wearing his favourite garment.Jennifer recalled the. Maybe this is some sort of sign? Am I supposed to get over my fear andtalk to these girls over the fence? I don't think I could do that, at least, I don't think I could start theconversation. Maybe one of them will want to talk to me? That would work,I think. That way I'll be too scared to run away from talking to them,since they'll just hate me for it, wont they? I would have to talk to them, wouldn't I?You know what I'm like Diary, I'm too nervous to be in the spotlight. I'mtoo scared to. More

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