#298768 - My tongue danced over the smooth skin and caressed over the nail, brushing her cuticle and exploring under her clean, unpainted, manicured nail. I looked down at those dainty little white teen feet with patterns still impressed into the tops of her feet from the sneakers and bright pink soles and tiny, black, grimy particles stuck to her feet around her toes from deep inside her crusty, old, hand-me-down sneakers. Do I remember Nicole's Mom being next door? My mouth dry, I swallowed hard and suggested in a feeble voice, Nicole, why don't you write our names? I knew that she only stared back at me, smiling.
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