From my bro, Kaishakunin…a meme I can get behind:
Leave one memory of you and me together. It doesn’t matter if I know you a little or a lot, it doesn’t matter if it actually happened, anything you remember! Next, post this in your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you.
Alyc Helms 
I remember when the two of us were part of the group of women who worked together to wrap the Maypole before the Beltaine game a couple years ago. You explained how to do it, then we all just started weaving the dance around the pole and by the time it was done we were all laughing and breathing real hard. Hawt.
We were in the Toyota. Dad said something along the lines of “don’t do anything to get yourself pregnant”. You respond, “Oral sex, what a great idea!” Dad nearly drives off the road.
Hah!! I’d totally forgotten about that! Damn, I’m good.
My fav is listening in awe as you explained how to eat a fortune cookie and it was exactly what I was about to say! That and the fact that we did the same house happy dance crack me up!
Ok, sorry, but I got 2:
1) Having my breath taken away when you walked down the Union Hall during the Kingdom game in your Orion “I look regal and HAWT” gold and red dress of wonder.
2) Watching you dance at Eroticon. You looked so pretty and happy and carefree. It was glorious and I could have watched you dance all night long!!
It was the year the wall came down and the bar was filled with noisy American ex-pats celebrating the fall of communism. I remember that you were talking to Gregor over in a dark corner booth. Thick sunglasses and the smog-like atmosphere of the place hiding you from the other cold war refugees, but not from me. Me? I smelled you first. That Jasmine and ginger perfume that I knew only came from a little old woman’s cart outside of Xinjang Province. That scent ,that had haunted my dreams since Bogotá, cut through the stale cloying smoke from two dozen faux-Cuban cigars like a hot knife through butter.
I watched you from across the room as you chatted that poor bastard up and then left him slumped over in the booth. I caught the quick movement as you slid the microfilm from his pocket and smoothly and unhurriedly slid from the booth and slinked for the door. I followed, leaving my briefcase under my desk just like Section wanted. I watched as you flowed through the Berlin alleys like a shadow. You moved through the crowds like a shark through schools of fish.
I tossed my cigarette to the ground as I watched you go back to the sleazy hotel. Everything looked washed out in the light of the flickering neon. You took one last look around before vanishing into the hotel, for a moment I though you saw me. At this point, I’d decided, it didn’t matter. My Colt, resting heavy in my shoulder holster, agreed.
It didn’t take much for the bellhop to give up your room. A flash of green got me all the info I needed, and a key to boot. Gun drawn, silencer affixed, I unlocked the door to the closet they called a room and strolled in like I owned the place. And there you were. You’d ditched the leather trench you’d used like a cloak back at the bar. In fact, you’d ditched everything you were wearing back at the bar, except for your Cuban-heeled stockings, your Glock and that damn perfume.
We went through the usual routine, the glares, the curses in Farsi, the steely gaze over cold steel barrels. Then came the next step in our little dance. I closed in, batting your gun away. It landed on the bed with a bounce as I pushed you up against the wall. You growled in my ear in Mandarin as I pressed myself up against you. I tossed my own gun aside as I kissed you. The passions we had both denied since the night the Chinese Embassy burnt down consumed us and we began to move to the rhythms of a different dance. I pinned you against the wall, moving myself against you. You wrapped your legs around me; the same legs that I was sure killed the Prime Minister’s aide last week.
My mind was dizzy with the scent, of you, the feel of you. We moved together throughout the night while the world changed around us. As hammers smashed against the wall dividing this damn city, we came again, and again; as cheers filled the streets, we whispered hollow promises and heartfelt threats in gasps and dark languages.
When I awoke, you were, of course gone. The only things that marked your passing were the smell of you and my sadly missing pinky finger. I smiled contentedly, lighting a Gauloise and leaned back on the bloodstained bed.
You wrapped your legs around me; the same legs that I was sure killed the Prime Minister’s aide last week.
Best line evar. I about choked on my coffee…