Perhaps we all are true to type -- or perhaps not. My type perhaps youknow, without of course quite knowing me: For instance, that I am thiscertain ag... -- did that particular shade of fuschia in the party dressmy aunt held up so she could tease me on that summer afternoon so longago help you to date me? A color, fashionable once, then fallen out offavor? Does the way I shake when I hear that one particular pejorativetell you the decade when I was a child or about the kind of not-so-little towns. "Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door, my heart was racing! We never said anything, we continued to pretend that we were still sleeping. My eyes were half open as I looked at my wife's beautiful breasts on display.The door opened and Brian walked in, although my eyes were now closed, I could sense that he stopped and looked at Amanda's breasts for a few seconds."Amanda," Brian said softly, "Amanda, it's me; I've brought your coffee.My eyes were open just enough to see but, closed enough. More

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