Transcendent, immortal, assured, I bathe in your spirit and I am reborn.”oo00ooI crafted those words in my diary the evening of the day I first saw ...ou. It was a Friday business meeting; November in Minneapolis. We connected the moment our eyes met. My throat constricted, my breath labored, I longed to whisper your name in your ear and tell you I adored you. I couldn’t. I was forced by time and place, to say my own name aloud in introduction and then bear the public burden of waiting in silence. She nodded. "The men I have been with, the English and their friends in the city, old men mostly, one was seventy-something, they have not been able to," she stroked my shaft in an exploratory manner, "to penetrate me, to have successful relations, at least not to my satisfaction. You understand? They seem to enjoy themselves, most do, but not I." Say more," I said, covering her prying hand atop my swelling yard and then holding it on her mounded thigh, our fingers linked. I was doing my best. More

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