This is a, a, a… it’s a magic pussy detector.” After that, we just looked at each other for a while. I guess I was shocked that she’d said “...ussy.” She didn’t seem bothered by that part at all. She was too creeped out by the “magic” part. “So…” I said, just for the sake of saying something. “Yeah,” she said back. “Well, I’m glad to learn I’m not crazy.” “Ah, hell, you might be crazy, I don’t know, but at least you’re not wrong. Not about this…” she said, putting it down on the coffee table as. They all wore stilettos and shortskirts, tank tops or boob tubes, their legs, arms, cleavage and midriffson show to anyone with eyes.I found myself sneering a little but they were fascinating to watch,trying on hats and sunglasses and laughing and joking. They didn't have acare in the world. And they were so young. It made me think of my ownyounger days.I hadn't been the type to parade round like that, getting drunk andchasing boys. I'd been fairly attractive in my early twenties/late. More

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