We'd made that agreement many years ago. I would have wanted her too also.I took it into the living room and set it on the coffee table. She was up looking at the art I had on the walls. I collected a lot of 3-D stuff. Things that stuck out when you hung them on a wall. I'd put up several shelves too because I collected lladro, Harmony Kingdom and Netsuke, a Japanese bone and Ivory carving art. She admired a couple and asked with her eyes if she could touch."Of course, please, fondle everything," I said. Aw shit! Way to go, Paul, real smooth, were my thoughts. This elicited a loud laugh and a big smile though as she'd picked up a skinny, carved Teakwood lizard from Bali and started to run her hand along it, slowly. She looked at me, smiled and all I could think of was, I hope she does that to my cock. "Like this?" she said as she stroked it, almost masturbating it. The front of my kilt - I am a Scot and wear one - was sticking out farther than before. She glanced down at it, smiled. I slowed down to herleisurely pace, and tried to strike up a conversation as Icaught my breath from my vigorous workout. She and I havebeen friends in a sort of light and social way, but thediscussions that we have had have been mostly about theweather, the neighborhood, politics, and the like. Nothingthat cuts through the layers of social veneer that shroudour deeper thoughts and feelings, that make us feel bothsafe and lifeless. But today, Jane didn't seem up for theusual small talk, so for a while we walked together insilence, enjoying the crisp air of early winter. She wasshy, and I knew from visiting her home that she and herhusband Dick were fairly straight-laced, with a decidedlyreligious bent. They were always talking about how inspiringJerry Falwell was, and a few years ago, they had knocked onmy door to distribute "Pat Robertson for President"literature.Eventually, I began to ask questions that steered thesubject matter around to what was on her mind. She didn'tseem too.
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