2002-12-02


I had to have the boy in red. All night long we were watching each other.

Finally, I ran up to him, grabbed his sleeve and said, "I've been trying to talk to you all night." He whimpered back, "I wanted to talk to you too but I thought you were with those guys." He was referring to a scandalous incident on the dance floor in which I was sandwiched by two very muscular men. "No!" I screamed, "I have to talk to you. Meet me outside."

Outside, our chemistry was instant. We were instantly holding hands and cuddling arms. I found out his name--J--and learned he was British. If you don't know already, I have a fetish for British accents. This factor only drew me closer to J.

All night we talked and it was great. So great. And after driving him home we made out for awhile. We were in the car and kissing so hardcore the glass fogged up. It was classic. We made out until the sun rose.

That was Saturday. Now, just wait til you hear about Sunday with Jay. It gets steamier than your Grandma's famous Gumbo.

The boy in red is mine. Happiness.

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