But they do have theirpeculiarities.I sat there, in the dim interior light of the bar, feeling every bit ofthe surrounding moisture soaked air, debati...g whether to file what Ihad or trash the effort. My editor would love it but screw him. Itbothered me. The weird stories and rumors which brought me here weretrue.There was more. My best lead turned out to be the most outrageouscrossdresser and bar owner I had ever met. JayJay Cummngs ran thislittle bar, "Good Night Johns", the only one in the. Mark was no longer a slacker. He waspractically an adult!!!I should have been very angry at him. I was, sort of. Why then,when I got into my pink babydoll nightie and got into bed, betweenmy silky, scented, pink sheets, did I think about Mark? At aconstruction site. With his shirt off. Muscles rippling.Why, as I fell asleep, did I lightly touch my peeny with myfingertips while thinking of Mark? And why did my tummy clench andwhy did I start spurting that sweet cream that the boys would loveso. More

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