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[A couple of sex scenes, but not a great stroke story. I hope you find it enjoyable, and always appreciate feedback.]

The Bethesda Maryland Metro station has the second longest escalator in the western hemisphere. I ascended, leaving behind the cacophony of trains, the glare of fluorescent lights and ads, and the smell of stale urine and way too many people. It was early evening, but darkness comes early.

As the sounds dimmed behind me, another sound became clearer. "Greensleeves" to the British; the Christmas carol, "What Child is This?" to us Americans. Appropriate to the season, as the first snow had fallen and Christmas was a week and a half away. I knew that I would drop a dollar. Years ago I decided. I would never give a cent to a beggar, and always give a dollar to a street musician. I can afford it, and they are working, not begging. The money still probably goes for cheap vodka or a hit of meth, but the principle makes the difference.

A nearly 3 minute ride to the top, the soloist had changed to "Danny Boy," the most soulful version I had ever heard. The escalator topped out, and the musician came into view. A woman, girl actually. Shoulder length dirty blonde hair, and I don't mean that particular color. She was wearing multiple layers of clothes, the top one a green dirty sweatshirt with a Ralph Lauren logo mockingly plastered on her chest. ...

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