He has a gentle smile at the corner of his mouth, as though he is trying to hide his amusement. "Thank you for my drink," I say in a low tone still n...t meeting his eyes with mine. "You are welcome, baby." His voice draws out slowly as I feel his eyes roam over my body. I feel a little uncomfortable, but not the creepy kind as if I need to impress him yet falling short. It's as though I want to be all over him but I realize I don't know him at all. My mind says one and my body reacts completely. Yeah, me, Timmy Corcoran, just an everyday eight year old boy, treeclimber, little league player, average second grader, lost in a fantasyof being dressed in an oh so very pretty, lace trimmed, white dress,the skirt fluffed out by a petticoat, my cute T shirt with the lacetrim and pretty bow peeking out from under the almost sheer white topof my dress, white ankle socks with a band of lace across the top andpretty white shoes with a little heel on my feet.If the priest called me, I'd stand. More

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