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Adult Blogger: Evan Rivers EvanRivers exclaimed in mock outrage that she was now assured that I was gay, an apparent recurring situation in her social history. I assured her that I was not entirely gay, but that I was certainly gay for her.
Dinner proceeded apace, through another bottle of white wine and food which, although made with some degree of care, left us both rather unimpressed, fore brains already focused on dessert to the point of frightening the young server with our simultaneous "No!" at the exhortation to dessert. I presented a card of exchange at that moment with my left hand, pen in my right, and immediately bought our passage back into the snow.
My back-of-hand knowledge of the city (and accidental discovery of a parking area behind the restaurant) left us a short trip to the car, but sufficient time for an embrace and even more prelude to the rest of the evening. We had easily charted our next destination as my own house, radically apart from the scores of Starbucks-bound Hoosierati. Or, more precisely, my couch, as our quickest point of horizontal communion.
I might add, at this point, some details about Evan Rivers, the personage. She is beautiful, in all ways tangible and otherwise. I may wax prosaic about raven hair, curiously bright eyes, but such picture painting is futile, ultimately, and only serves to put in perspective the miserable existence of the reader who did not spend the evening in such gorgeous company. But I will point out a detail of no particular significance other than its novelty. Sara is proportioned divinely well, and exactly one foot short of me. One foot short of everyone, actually, in that she appeared to be missing exactly one. Her right foot, in point of fact.
Since I am not without my various excisions and acquaintances with grave illness and injury, it passed without notice, except to make her a more intriguing and wholly fascinating person. And as events unfolded, so to speak, I found her to be a most dynamic and passionate woman indeed.