Retrieves her high school year book
From Torg Adventure
The first thing that Jane did was to reply to the invite in the affirmative. It went back in the next day's mail, together with $240 (she intended to arrive for Friday night, to ensure that she was fresh for whatever Saturday might bring). As she walked to the mailbox, she felt a momentary pang of concern. What would Bridget think when her reply arrived the next day? =91Good old Jane, she's so efficient'? No: =91Might have guessed plain Jane would respond first, she's so eager to please'.
Jane paused by the mail box.
Just then a van drove close by, causing Jane's short summer dress to ripple across her tanned thighs. A construction worker whistled and a cyclist nearly hit a lamp post. Jane smiled to herself. Who cared what Bridget thought she remembered of her? Jane was a different woman now. Happily, she consigned the invite to the care of the mail service.
Jane had much to do in the intervening months to the reunion. The first thing she did was to arrange a flying visit to her parents' house. It was nice to catch up with them and see the town once more before the reunion, but more importantly, it gave her an opportunity to retrieve her old high school year book from the attic and start drawing up her list=85
As she leafed through its pages, back in the comfort of her apartment, she was transported back ten years to a younger gaukier her - who used to lie on her bed, leafing through these very pages, legs clasped around her pillow, fantasising about what she would like to have done to her by Phil Masters, or Gary Wright, or Pete Smart, or=85 any of those others. In those days her evenings would usually end only when her bottle lens glasses had steamed up so much that she could no longer make out the pictures.
Within a week of collecting the year book, an acknowledgement came back from Bridget. Once again the immaculate handwriting and inside a short handwritten note, that strove to be personal and enthused about seeing her again - thanking Jane for being amongst the first to respond - and yet somehow seemed only to be going through the motions.
=91Bet Bridget went into PR,' Jane thought to herself sourly. =91Probably got a minion to write the letter for her'.
Then gleefully the realisation: No, Bridget wasn't in PR, or any other career. She had married rich. She was a housewife. Otherwise she would never have time to so lovingly hand craft polite responses to nobodies like Jane.
With renewed vigour =96 and the hormonal drive of the frustrated teenager that she used to be =96 Jane began to compile her list. This time laser eye surgery helped her to focus on her crushes for longer. Moreover, she had spent long nights scanning images from her year book into presentation software. Now, with a data projector borrowed from work and a vibrator sliding in and out of her sodden pussy, Jane could relive her teenage desires late into the night.
Only once, one hot sticky July evening, as her body juddered through yet another climax, did Jane fear that she might be becoming obsessed. She suddenly noticed that her tan was fading and that she hadn't had a date in over a month. She put down the vibrator that night and resolved to spend more time in the park, under the summer rays.
But the next night she figured that the reunion was only two weeks away, so what the hey.
How does the reunion begin?
