I wondered why? The night of the dinner and Dad's sale show was here. While everyone was at dinner I was busy getting ready for the demonstration show... They had a professional make up artist there that did our make up and help fit us in the purple and gold outfit they us wear, which I thought was pretty skimpy. It had a top that was like that of a bra that laced up in the middle of my chest with my breast barely being contained, and the bottoms were like wearing a thong with an attached skirt. Surfing the Internet, I found stories about sexy women who trick, or seduce, or drug, or hypnotize men, making them so horny they can't keep from filling the pussies of the dominant women. Stories like "Judith and Me" or "Principles" by Homer Vargas drove me crazy with desire to get my sexy husband to make a baby with me. But it just wasn't happening.Gradually I drifted into darker areas or on-line erotica, where, from the number of stories and websites, I discovered that mine is a common. Idiotic, isn’t it? Even my parents asked if there was something wrong with me. I told them it was nothing but the excitement of the journey and it was true, a cute boy wasn’t gonna take that away from me. Yes, I thought about him but also about how hellishly different Japanese food was, in visiting Mount Fuji, Kiyomisudera, the Torii gates, and we event went to a baseball game.The only thing that distracted me was when I bought a package of two bento boxes to bring back home. That was what I. The Loop was bustling, but impersonal and hurried: Nobody spoke a word to her, and no cabs came to pick her up. Workmen crowded the stations, but she could only overhear their gossip, not join in. They said both of the main cabbie companies were striking, and she wasn't surprised. Not a single taxi had driven past her since she had headed out the revolving door of the station, and she was dead in the middle of Chicago, surrounded by faceless robots and workaday zombies, and only a few hippie.
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