Bobby stopped talking and I looked up, my eyes lockingwith this guy standing uncomfortably close to me.He was around 5'-11" with dark, curly hair and ... cute little goatee - Imean stupid, stupid fucking goatee - that really brought out thesmoldering brown of his eyes. I stared at him for a moment, and himback at me, when he spoke. "Would a beautiful lady like you care todance?" he asked, hand outstretched, palm up like a tool from somestupid movie. I made to rudely turn him down, but my hand. She possessed a look of odd familiarity. Where had he seen this girl? That round, strong face, those dark, alluring eyes, that long straight dark hair and that killer body, all were somehow familiar to him. He felt as if he had known this girl in his past. But he couldn’t put his finger on where and when. There was no use in trying to remember. His memory was faulty. He knew that if he continued to think about it, perhaps a memory would be sparked. He was only in his twenties but he had been a. More

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