Would she suddenly vanish as his hands made contact on a bosom still firm and pert? Would she suddenly mutate, as had happened before, into someone wh...lly different from the one he’d accompanied through the Docklands streets: his arm around her waist and his nose nuzzling her long brown hair? Contact was made. And the docking was smooth. Their mouths grappled together with a passionate urgency. And when he placed his hand on her crotch, it was already dripping with a warm moistness of desire. That it was nice to her. She said the same. He went back to his house but he watched her from inside his house. She could see him. And that was when he noticed it again. She started crying again. An hour later he decided to go outside, again. There was no reason. He just felt he had to know. He’d get to the bottom of it, somehow. He’d take his time. Even if she was a slightly older woman. So what? He knew he’d get her to tell him why she was always crying it seemed. “Hi again,” he said,. More

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