The Wendy Story, Part 4

We finish our first Wendy and Ramon segment...

Man, this is gonna be just the best! I'll use some of that bullshit-o Spanish she loved so much, Ramon said to himself as he rounded the corner and all he could see as he came into the room was that ass, that unbelievable ass, as she was there, right there, up against the window, OH MY GOD he thought, this is just incredible, she knows my thoughts, she can see my very soul, like I don't even have to say anything and she just fuckin' knows ( a few neurotransmitters in Ramon's brain raised the question of marriage and were told "No" by the vast congress of both hemispheres so quickly that it did not really qualify as "a conscious thought") but when she turned her head, he froze and all he could see were the tears going down her face, tinted red by the neon hot dog sign two stories above across the street. She figured it out and she was going to go through with it ...for me... even though it's gonna.....really bad.... even though she thinks I'm a...and I am a...thoughts of asking the forgiveness of the Virgin Mary brought the erection down and into himself like the raising of a drawbridge, and between blustery apologies,teary gasps, and whip-stings of self-flagellating guilt, Ramon gathered his clothes hurriedly and left the apartment so quickly even Wendy could hardly say anything.

.....the outer door slammed shut, and Wendy had her answers. "The shit I have gone through to avoid using the goddamn vibrator on a Saturday night," she said aloud, this time fighting back tears of laughter at poor Ramon again. A deer in the headlights of self-discovery she knew she couldn't go backwards; raising the stakes makes it that much more seductive, and that much more necessary. Staring out the window at the object of her desire, this time out of awe and not fear, she knew she no longer needed a man, but a skyscraper. Wendy, and Wendy alone, had to have the Maxty Building.