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Amy Marie Rogers’ name crossing my social media message board was a blast from the past. I knew Amy, peripherally, as someone who lived in the same apartment complex where I and many others of our age group used to live. We’d “party” by the pool, get drunk, sometimes, we’d hit the clubs and just cause general trouble in the community for the pure fun of things. For instance, it was Amy, not I, that decided to put a box of dishwashing detergent in the hot tub, causing a massive foam display that did not bemuse the office staff at the apartment complex. It was Amy, that stripped a friend of mine of his swim suit as he lay passed out by the pool, tossing the swimsuit on to the roof of the club house. It was me, however, that bailed her drunk ass out jail when she got pulled over for a DWI one night. She promised to repay me, but never did. I tried to make her make good on her promise, but every time we got down to doing anything, either she or I would get drunk and pass out. I think we both just gave up on things.I moved because of a job change and Amy moved on to secure a boyfriend and over Ankara bayan escort time we lost contact with each other. I hated that, because Amy was fun to be around, and she was also too-freaking cute, with her bodacious curvy body and perfectly round ass that everyone loved to tease her about. Amy knew she was cute and she loved to flirt and tease.So, when I saw a message asking if I remembered her, ten years later, I sat and stared at the computer screen for a good ten minutes. I always had a crush on Amy, but never really had the guts to tell her since she always seemed to have a bevy of guys around.I answered her “How are you?” question with a little bit of intrepidness. She asked if I remembered her.“Of course,” I replied, reminding her that she still owed me without saying what it was for. She quickly replied, asking if I was single.“Divorced,” I replied.“I wish I was,” Amy shot back.“Maybe we should talk about it,” I answered, testing the waters. Amy and I always had a relationship where we openly talked about things. Mostly, it was her Escort bayan Ankara talking and me listening. I knew more about the guys at the apartment complex than anyone, secrets I never disclosed. Why Amy found me to be such a good soul to trust in, I never knew. I often wondered what she might be telling others about me.We agreed to meet up at a local bar.“What about your husband?” I inquired after we set up our date.“He’s an asshole,” Amy replied. “He’s on a business trip to Bermuda.”Amy went on to tell me that their marriage was on the rocks and that she had done everything to save it, humanly possible. She was pretty sure her husband wanted to end things as well, since she had recently discovered he was having an affair. I felt sorry for Amy. Guys always walked on her. She certainly didn’t deserve it, not the Amy Marie Rogers I knew.So, I sat down at the bar, a bit nervous, but happy to be reconnecting with an old friend. My whole world changed the moment I saw her walk into the bar, sporting a sexy black sequined, plunging neckline, very Bayan escort Ankara short cocktail dress and black stiletto heels. There was no mistaking it was Amy. I could tell by her walk and her smile.She walked straight towards me. I stood up, arms extended, palms up and smiled. We hugged like old friends do, only I didn’t want to let go.“Forget the chat,” I said, “You’re going home with me!”Amy chuckled.“I’m serious,” I quickly shot back.“Let’s at least get it started with a drink,” Amy replied, slipping on to the bat stool beside me. She brushed her long brown hair back over her soft shoulders and ordered up a Tequila Sunrise.“Make it two,” I told the bar tender.“You look good,” Amy remarked looking in my direction.“You too,” I replied.Our conversation quickly centered around her marriage and mine. She wanted to know why I was divorced. I jokingly told her that I discovered my wife was really a guy.“You’re shitting me!” she exclaimed. I couldn’t keep a straight face.“I’m slow,” I replied, “but not THAT slow.”“You know,’ Amy replied, “I never saw you as slow, just respectful.”I confided in Amy that I had always had a crush on her.“Well hell,” she replied, “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”“I couldn’t,” I replied. “You were always spoken for.”Amy took a gulp from her drink glass and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. That was pure Amy. “No-napkin-Amy,” I had once nicknamed her.
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