It was summer 1987. I was working in Washington DC as a messenger in an office building. The crushing swelter of the humidity and the inescapable heat rising from the asphalt made the three block walk to the Metro ever the more urgent. My skin was fairly crawling by the time I began walking up the hill on 19th Street. Luckily I had dressed for the weather and was wearing a button down white shirt, cotton khakis, and a khaki zip-up jacket in case it rained. I had chosen to free ball it that day. I noticed the secretaries taking furtive glances at the bulge in my trousers, so I decided to show o… 阅读更多内容
