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A Day with Jackie
Our legs were intertwined and each time we would grind our private parts together, the bed in the dimly lit room of the cheap motel would make at least one loud squeak, loud enough to almost drown out the John Coltrane music from next door that was loud enough to drown out our moans and screams. Room 12 at the Shady Rest Motel was our regular meeting place. I’d lost track of how many times I’d met Jackie there, twenty, thirty, or maybe a hundred. I didn’t know and I really didn’t care. I just...