On the other hand, I felt a little like a Peeping Tom, lurking outside a bedroom window in the dark. This was Kat, my co-worker. I had chatted with ...er in the break room, swapped stories about kids, lent her a pen when hers went dry in the middle of an important phone call. Did I have any right to see this more personal side of her? Fortunately, it didn't take long to resolve the moral question. After all, Kat had willingly put these pictures where others could see them. She had chosen to. As was her custom in the sprimg, all she wore was a short skirt & a sheerblouse today. We headed down to Sac. about 10 am. It was about 10:40 when wegot to Carls. When we went in we found that George & Eric & 1 of Carlsneighbors were there too. Angel stayed in the living room with them while Carl& me went to the kitchen to get us coffee & a Pepsi for Angel. We came back out5 or 6 minutes later to see Angel topless, bent over the couch arm with herskirt around her waist, & Eric fucking her. I. Such was the female poet’s dilemma. While she pushed herself to greater heights, there was always something weighing her down, dragging her below the earth no matter how hard she tried. It seemed to her like an odd paradox—the more intense the search, the farther happiness moved away. It had been this way ever since the incident in front of her home. It took suffering to realize these paradoxes, as though the incident, still fresh in her memory, balanced out what would normally be a graceful,. I was more inclined to do the latter. The past few weeks had been hectic for me and I wanted some sort of a diversion.I gave the whole issue a lot of thought and decided to wait till the next day before going to the police. After all, I had enjoyed what had happened.I dried myself and looked in the mirror. There were no marks of violence. My pussy was sore and my cheeks hurt. But no serious damage.I wore jeans and t-shirt and headed to the office. As I was leaving, I was suddenly reminded of.
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