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sniffles. "I really understand what Seamus is going through, and I don't
blame him. It's just;' she took a big gulp from her red plastic cup. "I
don't think I'll be able to find anyone who will want me ever again." At
this she began sobbing. I sat down beside her.

"Oh, Mary, no, you don't have to cry. You're a beautiful young
woman and you're a lovely person. I'm sure there are other men out
there for you." Here I was really milking it, but to be fair, I was starting
to really like the way she looked that night-wide frame, smeared eye
shadow and all.

Still crying, she muttered something about being fat.

"No, no, come on-you're just curvy is all! Men love curves!"
At this point, I was being somewhat overeager. I attribute this entirely to
my drunkenness.

She looked up at me, doe-eyed. I was three seconds from los-
ing all of my composure deep within my pants ..

"I love curves, Mary. I think you look ...very sexy tonight!"
That was the most straightforward and honest I had ever been with a
woman- I was drunk, but nonetheless she did look sexy. In the back of
my mind I pictured her sprawled out naked on a bed, hair tousled and
smiling seductively. In my mind she reached out, grabbed for my pulsing
member, opened her mouth-

"Can you get me another drink?" she asked.

"What was that?"

"Another drink. Another screwdriver, please?"

"Of course, sweetie" -oh god, I really just called her 'sweet-
ie' - ''I'll go grab you another drink. You wait right here."

My cock was blue steel inside my drawers. I went to the bar
and grabbed her the drink she wanted, mixing myself a black president
from the bar-five parts Coke, two parts Jigermeister-and came
back to where she was sitting on the floor. To be honest, looking at her
then, she wasn't what I'd call "fat." She was what I'd call Hollywood fat,
perhaps-a little rounder in the face, somewhat of a large stomach, big
brea~ts and so on-but not large to the point of being unappealing. I
handed her the drink. She smiled, looked at me, and drunkenly pulled
me in close to her.

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