Except on the weekends, there was nobody around, except the object of my fantasy. I went there on a Wednesday. I parked in a lot and walked toward a b...g, slow-moving creek that wound its way into the lake. I knew that it was deep. My heart began to beat faster; I can't swim, and am terrified of drowning. But in a strange way, this fear is also a turn-on. I can't explain it. Maybe it's the helplessness, the vulnerability, which in my dreams leads to the best part: my handsome hero. As I. "No, actually, those belonged to her, and I guess, uh, that she musthave left in such a hurry that she forgot them." I prayed feverishly inthe back of my mind that this lie would go over, but already I was awarethat it was too late."Oh, really? It's odd, I've seen pictures of Cynthia, and she's a petitelittle thing, why would she have a bunch of size 10 panties andgarterbelts?" Uh-well, you know, she did loose a lot of weight after we got together,and they must have been left over. You might as. More

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