It doesn't really have an ending, it's meant to be a beginning, but, well, you'll see...***Sometime in the future...Richard Symonds, Richie to his mat...s, which included most people he met, looked out through the pebble-effect glass of the bathroom. Being a bathroom window, it was designed so that you couldn't see much through it, but he could see all he needed to - grey. It was always grey. Not particularly nice, not particularly foul, just... grey. He couldn't remember when it wasn't grey. Not. Carol took Yolanda’s hand and brought her toward her. Carol gave Yolanda a hug then stepped back and slipped one strap of Yolanda’s tank top off her shoulder. One side of the top slid down slightly against the swell of Yolanda’s breast. Carol then pushed the other strap off then lifted the top off of Yolanda’s body exposing her perfect pale breasts with their pink nipples. Yolanda didn’t protest. I was going crazy with arousal and confusion. My cock was hard. Carol then pulled Yolanda’s. Some of his friends had finally convinced him to get some professional help. One of them had recommended a therapist named Peggy Callahan. Tom had called her, and over the next several months, she had helped him cope with not only the disaster of his marriage but a lot of other baggage he had been carrying around. Even though their sessions had officially ended, they had stayed in touch. Tom got the impression that there was something more that the usual patient-therapist bond between them, but. Shawna and me. It wasn't." Wasn't? You mean it isn't still... not like that?" Broke it off tonight... nothing harsh, you know. It just... it wasn't going anywhere. She's looking for something, I'm looking for something... we're not it." You want a coffee?" I want a vodka, but a coffee'll have to do." I'm sorry." You're not, really." Tony put in, taking the cup as Marcus dropped into the bean-bag. "I know what you mean, you're sympathetic, but sorry... somewhere deep in the back of your head.
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