Above, he wore a white shirt, plain, covered by a jacket in the color of sand that matched his shoes. However, his hair was what stole my attention: i... wasn’t messy nor straight, it looked taken care of, soft and firm, as if he had just got down from a motorcycle, arranged in little curls that covered the top part of his eyes; it wasn’t black, it was a soft brown, the color of wood with a touch of amber.I looked at him, stupid, dumb. Discretely too, of course, or so I thought until he looked. At seventeen I had my first love, with an American lad a couple of years my senior. I enjoyed his company, and his kisses. His name was David. He was the one with whom I first lay, one marvelous night, long ago, in his quarters. He was gentle and kind with me that night, a true gentleman of Earth. He pampered me, buying me presents, catering to my tastes, and always made love to my like I was made of crystal.My friends envied me, and everyone around told me David was the best man I could have. More

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