From there I vaguely remember hitting the dirt ,on my face, in the street, and Jasmine and Sandra half carrying me into their wagon and onto a pallet....That's the end of my memories of that ill-fated night. When I awoke the next afternoon Sandra was sitting there, staring at me, with a bottle of whiskey in her hand. “Boy, you really fucked up. The boys won't fix the wagon and they want us gone. Do you always think with your dick?” Because I really didn't really recollect too much of the previous. She had shoulder-length brown hair and eyes the color of rainy-day skies that were made larger by her steel-rimmed glasses. Her blue T-shirt clearly showed she had left her bra at home. A good sign, Rich thought. He imagined she might have a good ass hiding in her loose khaki shorts. Standing behind her at the ticket window he was satisfied that she had good legs. He decided she was doable, but it didn’t matter. He didn't expect to do her on the first date. Jane was pleased with Rich’s. More

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