The sky periodically pummeled her with hail pellets as she would pass through the deserted intersections. Her cheeks were aflame. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. She wore the most expensive athletic shoes money could buy in a fashionable black color with neon green laces. “And yet I wonder whether the world ever held such another enigma in her sex. At any rate she must see me. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her.
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