She had to stop him. She had to get him back. He couldn't just leave her. She had to explain -- try to make him understand.The phone rang and finally ...he heard his voice. It was his voice mail."Brent, it's me. Please call. I need to explain. Please, Brent. You can't leave me. Please talk to me and let me explain. You need to understand. It was just a job. Call me. I beg you. Call me." She set the phone back on its cradle and stood, looking at nothing. Her life was falling apart around her and. Maybe it was but, at a minimum, she must have sub-consciously set herself up for what happened.When we got there she found a note saying that her roommate had gone home for the weekend so we were alone together. We talked for a while. Our conversation was interesting but innocuous and she seemed oblivious to the sexual tension that I was feeling. Was she? I'll never know"I think he's dreamy... his voice, that is." We were lying side by side on the carpet, listening to her favourite vocalist. More

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