Armisen’s dick once and impulsively followed him across the country with nothing but flip-flops and a carry-on.“He’ll have a vodka and tonic,”...Mr. Armisen said. “Put it on my tab.”The bartender nodded and left.“Thanks,” said Carson breathlessly.“No problem,” said Armisen, taking a sip of his liquor. “You’re my guest, after all.”Something about the way he brought the glass to his lips made Carson wish Mr. Armisen would throw the drink in his face. Stinging cold and wet--“So… what’s the plan?”. He could take his pulse by them.He felt that indefinable, energetic buzz in his body, that tingle ofarousal.Damn, that was quick.Just to be sure, just to be thorough, he checked the white, cottonpanties. His bush was unkempt, a thick brown patch. From it, wafted thearoma of his sweat and his femaleness. It made his thighs warm. Hefound himself licking his lips without knowing why.He touched his face, but could tell nothing except that he had a nose,lips and eyebrows. He had hair, and if it. More

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