“Sit down and buckle up!” I said firmly. “Fine!” she said. She sat down and buckled up. But I could still smell her pussy. She had always been a wet one, and soon after she sat down I could smell her wetness as it seeped through her dress, ran down her crack and soaked her asshole. My hand instinctively pressed my crotch. Finally we get to her apartment. She gets out and slams the door, I watch her—admittedly almost hoping for another slip of the skirt—telling myself that it’s because I want to make sure she gets inside. Ironically enough this is a reasonable worry. She stood at the door for some minutes before beginning to bend and look around the door and in the bushes along the path. I turned off the engine, locked the doors and walked up to her. “Do you have your keys?” “YES!” she said vehemently. “Where are they?” “I don’t know!” “Then you don’t have them, do you?” “Fuck you,” she said evenly. I walked back to the car and looked in the back, they weren’t there. No keys on the. What had I missed all those years ago? I watched him in sudden amazement. How had I missed that? He was scared! Why would he be scared? He knew how to swim. He’d been a lifeguard for years at the local Y, while I’d been too scared to dip my little toe into the water for fear I’d drown. Sure I’d learned how to swim, the hard way. He’d pushed me in and sang out in his most authoritative voice ‘Sink or swim brother, its all up to you!’ I’d swam, and hated him since that incident. I guess I still did. He was the bastard in sheep’s clothing, but I’d been the only one to realize that. ‘That’s six today!’ my brother called out as he unhooked his latest catch and placed it into cold storage in another container. I frowned at him, sickly like and tossed the reminder of my sandwich into the water, no longer interested in it. Why should he catch more? ‘Hey,’ he said in total disbelief, ‘why did you toss my bait into the water?’ I watched as it vanished from sight beneath the waves. It floated.
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