They were both writers too, of course. She had made it a habit to only make friends with fellow writers. That seemed safer somehow. Finally she had ab...ut thirty-five "friends" and only a few were what she would call real friends. These she trusted. Well, really, she trusted everyone on the site. Maybe that was her first big mistake.The sound of the flute, or some kind of pipes, started about a week after she had seen the car. Late at night, when her parents were sleeping, and she was still up. “I could stay in here with you for a bit. Keep you company while you work.” She was standing feet from me. The only thing between us was the toilet. And her eyes were rolling down and focusing on that bulge in my pants. “Ahh, yeah, whatever you want.” I said, unsure whether I should lift my brush and continue painting. At the moment I was having a very difficult time keeping myself from grabbing her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to feel the dampness of her legs and the softness of her. More

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