What was I doing? I thought about chickening out and driving home to the safety of my apartment, my laptop, and my normal, vanilla life, but something...deep down inside made me open the door, get out and walk up the stairs and knock on the door. Within moments John opened the door. Wow. He was a man. All man. Dressed in jeans and a white collared shirt, he greeted me with the deepest voice I had ever heard and ushered me through the door. He was 6’4′, with salt and pepper hair, and a great beard. She distinctly remembered his voice when they spoke over the phone. He sounded the age he was. She told herself to stop worrying about it and to stop being so paranoid. From her dark, out-of-the-way corner, she saw him enter. His grey hair was cut short and she could see where he was balding in the center of his scalp on top. Some young women would just say that he was too old if he had hit on them, but, to Cheyenne, he was "beautiful". Her hands already longed to reach out and touch the. More

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