Duncan
I lay the pink rose on the seat opposite me as I consider its meaning.
Did she intend it the way I'm taking it? Is that pink rose her acceptance of my invitation?
Are we about to seal her membership in the mile-high club?
Am I about to have the woman I've long fantasized about?
The questions continue as my anticipation reaches epic levels. I'm trying to recall all of the suave things I should say. This isn't my first rodeo, though it feels that way. I've done similar things before, yet I suddenly have no memories. My brain seems unable to function. Synapses misfire or no longer take place. I surmise that it's due to the sudden lack of circulation. My blood is obviously rushing elsewhere. As my d**k hardens at record speed, advanced communication, or even discussing the weather
