I started slipping buttons, one by one. I kept waiting for Cynthia to tell me to stop, but she said nothing, staring intently at my fingers. The hand ...n my thigh squeezed in encouragement.When I reached the waistband of my skirt, I moved my hands away, but she gestured for me to pull the sides of my blouse apart, "I said to show me. I can't see anything unless you open your blouse."Glancing around again, I slowly pulled the sides of my shirt apart, trying to avoid pulling it out of my skirt. As. You know. Woman crying. I don't know about other men, but it always makes me feel like an asshole, even when I didn't do anything at all to cause it. You can't just slap a patch on it, like a leaky pipe."Hey, sweetie," I say, "no way you're ever going to be a mess."She looks up, moves the hand with the Kleenexes in it off to one side a little, and grins. I ask you. She laughs. She cries like a sprinkler system. She grins. Makes mercurial mean something like molasses. I don't know what to do. I. More

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