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’ That same power took me back to her place again and again for the experience I had the last time.I was starving for that. I needed it more and more. I experience it each time. We used to sit sticking each other on her bed while watching TV. We keep our heads on each other’s shoulders for some time, one by one. We used to wrap our hands together, trying to pull each other closer and enjoy each other’s company.That’s all we used to do. But we never talked about it with each other. It was just like I used to come and sit. She would come through and sit beside me. Just do some ‘Hi,’ switch on the TV and get onto our positions. After spending a few hours, I used to return to my home and return after a few days. Almost a month passed following the same routine. I always thought to speak to her about this. But never knew where to start and how to start, and she didn’t do it either. I used to think of what she would be feeling about this and me. As she was married, she must have her mind. Or so I thought. Within moments, she was back in the tiny lobby. Now, I could tell her desperation had reached new heights. "It's... broken!" she wailed.I knew in a heartbeat what she meant. The toilet in the men's room, the only other source of relief for her overly-full bladder, was not going to work. I shrugged; there wasn't anything I could do. She needed relief, and couldn't get it. "I wish I could help, but..." I let the sentence hang; there was absolutely nothing I could do.Or so I'd thought. Her face brightened. "Oh, would you?" She waved her hand and said some strange phrase, then wheeled and marched back into the men's room.I stood for a moment, puzzled. Her actions had made no sense at all. I turned back toward the door, and as I pushed it open, I automatically reached into my pocket for my car keys.It took nearly a second for my brain to realize that something was wrong. The sensation in my pocket didn't seem at all familiar. I paused, and let my hand push my pocket.
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