Don't be scared? Did I have something to be scared of? What won't I regret? Why did she want to meet me, of all people? The questions ran through my h...ad plenty of times, but the answers were all unclear. I wondered how she even knew my name, but I never got to ask. Her french manicured fingernails touched my cheek gently, and I shivered. I wasn't a lesbian. I have never even kissed a girl before. The only reason I had gone to the bathroom was to figure out what she had wanted. It was clear,. She was shorter than I'd expected, and once she'd gotten me and a glass of white wine, her belligerence faded and she seemed to shrink into the leather seat. Even so, you couldn't miss her. She was in her full post-Regis saint-turned-sinner regalia. Her bright red pullover sweater fit like a coating of shellac and its V-neck plunged lower than the Dow, leaving no doubt that the superstructure was all Kathie Lee with no artificial ingredients. A black leather skirt ended halfway down her thighs,. More

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