February 4, 2003:

Her apartment on 3rd Avenue. Crying on the couch: after weeks of back-and-forth her boyfriend finally agrees that he wants to break up, too.

Dinner with wine, and you agree to stay as comfort, but only after she insists, "Promise you won't fuck me." No intention, too honorable, would feel like taking advantage. Want to try to help her feel better. An hour later you're telling her some story about a former girlfriend when without warning she slyly and evilly pulls your hand to her breast...

"What are you doing?!", you sputter, appalled and amused.

"I want to be a bad girl..."

In the morning as you kiss her goodbye she says, "Next time I cum I'll be thinking of you..."