She told him about a recurring dream she had about the future, as a young maiden so long ago, ten years before, in 1883. It was March the third, 1893,...and coincidentally, the time was 3:33 in the afternoon, always it was 3:33, as if that was a number of some significance. Magically, mystically, inexplicably, when he rang her bell to return her glove, as if she was Cinderella and he was Prince Charming returning her glass slipper, it was March the third, 1893, at 3:33. More than odd, it was. Her left hand rubbed her neck and she could feel the sweat, the other hand ran over her stomach and down towards her wet lips, untouched by anyone but herself. As she closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like for a man to touch her, Jack called out “You changed yet Vic?” She flew back into reality. “Ummm… almost! Be two seconds! I’ll meet you out by the pool!” After quickly throwing on her bikini, she went to join Jack with the cans of Coke. She dropped the cans onto. More

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