Marsha DiMarco, for the time being, I thought. Through the blood, I could see flashing lights and the sound of a machine. They were cutting the door f...ame on my car. I was pinned. As they moved me, the unbearable pain in my leg returned. I heard someone say, she’s out. Splint and wrap her leg. I was barely conscious. Then it came to me, My BABY! I tried to ask if my baby was ok? No one answered. They poked my arm and the pain subsided then nothing.I awoke if you want to call it that, one eye. I did have one laugh: the blanket had a big wet spot, clear evidence that we'd been having fun.I could feel the proof of his passion on my legs. In the past I would have consciously rubbed my legs together. Today I didn't. My skirt was short enough that it didn't take very long before anyone who'd bothered to look at my legs knew what we'd been doing.We met Liz and some guy, and there was come on her face. We hugged briefly, and I don't think it was a surprise to either of us that neither of us. “Mind if we take you off to the side for a quickie?”“Not ... at ... all.” The girl, high or drunk, was now high on the Kiss. She swayed half with the beat, half with the exhaustion the Kiss brought on, along with its pleasure. But, high as she was, she still managed to step a few inches closer to Eric, and press hard nipples against his suit jacket. “Or, right here? We can dance, Mister Handsome, fuck and dance to the beat.”Eric blinked down at the skinny girl. Ok, yeah, she was attractive, and. She doubted that he even knew he had a son in the United Kingdom. This story takes place at the end of that long hot summer. 1975 was a carefree time, though we didn’t know it then. The social turmoil that was to come with the 1980s was not even suspected, least of all by me. I had no eye on the future. My time was spent biking about the countryside, building model aeroplanes and working in the green houses to make some money. I was making about three pounds a day and to me, back then, that was.
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