Late morning coffee rose up in my throat, souring my mouth. “I’m happy to do that with you! I just don’t want strangers to see.” “But you don’t get it.” His fingers picked at the brass studs. “Those strangers are me. I’m the rejected, lonely guy who can’t get a date. And when you show your panties to a guy like that, it feels like you’re accepting me.” I sprang up from the sofa, my skirt tumbling down to my ankles. “No, you don’t get it! I feel like your puppet!”
Well well. Its finally being talked about.
