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I woke up maybe an hour later, feeling something hard against my head. I yawned and opened my eyes, seeing that it was Drew's penis, pushing against the fabric of his jeans. My skirt had rode up when I laid down, and my white cotton panties were showing. I got up and looked at Drew, who appeared to be asleep. "Drew? Wakey wakey!" I giggled, still intoxicated, and kissed him on the cheek. He stirred a little and I kissed him on the lips softly. He woke up, a little groggy at first, and blushed."Shit, did I fall asleep?" he asked, and I nodded, laughing softly. He glanced at his crotch, and his blush darkened. "I, uh, I should drive you home," Drew muttered, getting up and trying to adjust himself. I shook my head and slipped off my shoes."Let's playy....hide n seek!" I cried out excitedly, a plan forming in my head. He smirked and nodded."Alright, but after that, I'ma take you home, you should sleep this off," he replied, then covered his eyes, beginning his count to twenty. I ran to. Either I’m cured, or it’s going to get me at last. I’ve lived a good, long life, so I’m okay with it either way. But here, at what might very well be my end, there is something that weighs heavy on my mind: My greatest failure. I want to tell you about my first marriage, and how it entirely changed the course of my life. I met Victor on the slopes of Zermatt in Switzerland. I still remember the very first time I saw him. We were at the top of the mountain. I was looking at the Matterhorn rising like a great, ice pyramid into a radioactive blue sky. He slid into view, his long skis spraying snow. He wore black wool pants, and goggle-style sunglasses--dark and intriguing. He was laughing with his friends, and then he saw me, he took off his goggles, looked right at me and smiled. His smile alone made my legs weak, and my breath caught in my throat. He was in his early twenties, like me, but I distinctly remember thinking: This is a real man. Not some college boy, like my mother wanted.
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