Who was she?

What was that woman’s name? She saw me at her job at the sandwich shop in Asheville, and later told me that she had been so turned on that she went into the bathroom and masturbated, thinking of me. I didn’t pay it much mind, but that might have been the first time that I had to admit that women could actually be interested in me, or that I didn’t always have to be the perpetrator or pursuer.
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