' Not our waiterStevie, our waitress." Yes, I remember," I said quietly. "He called me your waitress." I remember one of those nights in particular,... she said, teasing mewith her voice. "Do you remember the one I'm thinking about Stevie?" Um, I'm, I'm not sure," I stammered."Oh, really? Not sure?" No, Ma'am," I answered, lying in the hope my complete humiliationmight be avoided and yet so sexually excited and turned on by thehumiliation she had already triggered I craved her in the same. I was a teenage boy who recently turned thirteen. I was thin with short brown hair and a toned body from running a lot. My parents had left for the weekend and I was alone with my fifteen year old sister. The closest neighbor we had was a single thirty year old man who spent a lot of time with his friends. I noticed something when he took out the trash. Beer bottles. I saw that my sister was napping in her room. I snuck out front and grabbed one from the trashcan.I didn’t want to risk. More

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