This is an old story. It’s an old story about an old girlfriend who was a bit of a perv. The fact is, a dearth of stories since leaving Vermont left the well dry. The fact is, I was holed up in my apartment with a sex maniac who reflexively kept her hand down her pants. She would periodically look at me from her reclined position on the couch and sing, “Magic pussy time!”
In which David gets a surprise finger on a second date.
You see what I was up against. My apartment looked like the aftermath of a rock star’s hotel-room temper tantrum. This had been going on for three weeks. When we were done trashing my apartment we took the Acela down to DC and did the same to hers. She’s assaulted me in an empty corridor at Union Station. She’s rubbed me johnny under the table at Capital Grille.