As I was passing the curbside mailbox at 444, I suddenly felt the need to cling to something and retch. I choose the mailbox to lean on. Leaning ove... it, faking a retch, I opened the mailbox and quickly took out its contents: some junk mail, a bill and a magazine. (I had seen the mailman pass by forty minutes earlier.) The mail fit nicely beneath my sweatshirt. Slowly I continued on, soon breaking into a jog again. It certainly seemed to be a quiet residential neighborhood.Half an hour. I wondered if maybe I had misjudged her tits, as well. She seemed to know exactly where she was headed, going straight to the screen patio out back and putting the pizza on the table. Walking behind the wet-bar, she took out a couple of cold Tecates, popped the tops, and took a long slug from one as she handed the other to me. “No sense wasting time,” she announced. “I’ve only got a half hour for dinner, the pizza’s getting cold, and I’m already hot.” Then, putting down her beer, she stripped. More

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