Eagerly, I kind of grabbed at her. We were sitting on the velour upholstery of her square back with no air-con, in july, in Pasadena CA. I wasn't really grabbing at her. I had my attention bent on her though, and the summer is sexy; even in the complaining thread of conversation that always leaves the season convicted by us residents of sunny LA, to me every one lazing around town with warm, wet darkened backs and shiny temples is still very sexy. But, I was watching her and listening to her, not just what she was saying, which I was, intently, but to every sound she made. Like a slight adhesive peeling of her back parting with the car seat when she reached for her sunglasses on the dash. I ate up the sound of her just moving through space. Most of the work was pretending I didn't care. Cool. I wish I had spent more time with her that summer. I was afraid of her and of having intercourse with her. I'm still, ummmm.. maybe wary is better, but I am, of women.