We sat down on a park bench. I brushed my short black skirt out from under me as I sat down."Well, I'm not really Angela O'Brien." Wha... what do you ...ean?" he stammered out."Remember about four years back, the crash of Flight 685?" Of course. Worst air disaster in the 21st Century." I was supposed to be on that flight." Well, why weren't you?" I was in a tragic car accident."Paul's eyes lit up in this strange way."What?" I inquired about his queer eyes."No... nothing," he stammered. "Go on.". Or could she?As I began to get lost in my thoughts of, what if. . .she then lifted up her hips, while laying her tiny hand over mine, and with a small gesture pushed my fingers past the rolled-up waistband of her shorts. At this point, all time became surreal and I knew I was entering the point of no return, as nothing could have kept me from slipping my hand down the rest of the way between her young smooth legs, and when her thighs opened slightly, I was pressing my fingertip of my index. More

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