

Her

Catalyst

## a story of hope and love

## in an alternate timeline

# Part 03 of 25

## Geoff Schultz

ebook format edition - distributed by www.smashwords.com

Copyright 2020 by Geoff Schultz

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, and events in this book are products of this writer's imagination or, in the case of referenced historical persons, are used fictitiously. Any other similarity to actual persons, names, or events is purely coincidental.

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License Statement: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this writer.

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Note to the Reader: The principal elements of this story were previously released under a different title by Glynn Glenn who requested that this writer rewrite and release this story under his own name.

WARNING:

Each of the 25 Parts of Her Catalyst has some descriptive scenes of intimate pleasure experienced individually or shared between consenting adults which are inappropriate to children and will be offensive to some adults. Some Parts also have brief descriptive scenes of violence unrelated to intimacy. In addition, some of the statements and ideas expressed by the characters may be offensive to some people. The intent of this writer is not to be offensive, but to allow the characters to practice their right of the freedom of speech.

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An explanatory note:

This story takes place in an alternate time line which uses a calendar of ten months with six weeks of six days each. The remaining five days are set aside for the New Year holiday at the beginning of the year which expands to six days every fourth year.

Months are identified as 'first' through 'tenth' with the New Year holiday being the 'zero' month at the beginning of each year. The days of the week are known as: first-day, second-day, third-day, fourth-day, fifth-day, and sixth-day. Dates are recorded with four digits for the year, two digits for the month, and two digits for the day. For example, 2120-06-18 refers to the year 2120, the 6th month, and the 18th day.

Days are divided into 24 hours with the start of the hour being referred to by the number followed by the word 'hundred'. For example, noon is called 'twelve hundred' and an hour later is 'thirteen hundred'. Rather than use precise times, the following abbreviations are used to designate general time periods with the dates:

(n) for night or about from 0001 to 0600

(m) for morning or about from 0601 to 1200

(a) for afternoon or about from 1201 to 1800

(e) for evening or about from 1801 to 2400

For inclusive time period listings with dates, '>' is used between time period abbreviations. For example (m>a) means from the morning into or through the afternoon. For partial time period listings with dates, (a1) is the first part of the afternoon and (a2) is the second part of the afternoon.

The cartographic coordinates used in this story to identify municipalities and other locations are based on a defined circumference of the earth of 25,000 miles divided into 1,000 units of 25 miles each. Longitudinal coordinates begin near the western edge of the Western Ocean (in the reader's timeline it's called the Pacific Ocean) and reach the 500th unit near the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. While the units are 25 miles apart at the equator, their separation diminishes as the location nears the North and South poles. Latitudinal coordinates begin at the North Pole and maintain a 25 mile separation to reach the 250th unit at the equator and the 500th unit at the South Pole. After the cartographic coordinates were defined, it was discovered that the circumference of the earth around the poles is less than it is around the equator so there is some overlap of units at the North and South poles based on maintaining the 25 mile interval between units measured from the equator. For the story of why the cartographic coordinates were developed, please read The Trouble With Luck available at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/GeoffSchultz.

# Her Catalyst – Part 03

2147-08-29 (e5)

After the quiet stretches a little, George joins the conversation, "While you're adding questions to the categories, I have a couple of questions about the distribution process."

Sharlene asks, "What are they?"

"If I remember right, last week there was talk about using the same headband to record the emotional responses and to experience the recordings. Doesn't the recording headband include a mini-drive and a battery?"

"Yes."

"That might not be compatible with the idea of a one time play access from online. If they accessed a recording and copied it onto the mini-drive, they could play it as many times as they want."

"That's a good point. We might have to think of some alternative method. Was there anything else?"

"It may be more of a suggestion which starts with a question. I assume the headbands were manufactured by another company."

Mariam answers, "That's right. I think one of the engineers at the Institute helped design it, but it was manufactured by someone else."

"My suggestion would be that you continue to use the other company to supply the headbands. My guess is that when you first go online, the demand for headbands will be low, but in a short while, the demand will climb quickly and then will taper off as the people who want them, have acquired them. I don't think you want to deal with finding the factory space and then have to hire and fire workers as the demand for headbands fluctuate. You might also think about whether to have the manufacturer drop ship the headbands or if you want to set up your own inventory and shipping facility. A question for the technology section is how long are the headbands designed to work? A thought for the legal section is do you put the headbands under any kind of warranty and do you replace them if they clearly show abuse rather than 'normal wear and tear'."

Sharlene shakes her head and says, "Good grief, questions lead to questions lead to more questions. Are you sure it's really worth it all?"

Mariam assures her, "I know it seems overwhelming and confusing, even while we try to break it into smaller pieces to deal with them separately, but, yes, it's worth it. As you have questions, comments, concerns, suggestions, or whatever else, just jot them down under the appropriate section or in the general section if no specific section makes sense. From time to time, we should review them to add to the questions, to list answers we've found, or to move things from one section to another.

"Yes, a lot of the most important questions will have to wait until we're fully committed and have the freedom to talk to Todd and Julie or anyone else who might be associated with the Project without compromising their positions. The Institute is obligated to continue paying us until the minimum two week training period is over, even if that takes another two months. We may be bored silly with no real work to do, but we can survive that.

"If you start getting too anxious, have George distract you. And keep collecting your own emotional recordings. I can't document it, but I strongly feel it's going to be very important for us to have your clean and strong emotional recordings. It doesn't all have to be sexual pleasure. You also had a wonderful contented recording from that sixth-day on your vacation. There's not a whole lot you can do, other than keep asking and listing questions until after the Project is awarded. Then you'll be busier than a one-armed paper hanger and wished you had a chance to breathe."

Sharlene responds, "Thank you, Mariam. I'm sorry I get so uptight about so much and so soon."

"Don't be sorry. Frankly, I'm glad to see you're serious about taking the responsibility to make Digital Empathy work right. I'm good with the details, but I don't always function well without at least some general guidance from outside. Even your many questions and concerns are good guidance for me since they point me to the details which need to be solved. If I were to run the company, I would be digging into this set of details, then that set of details, while everyone else would have to guess at what the overall theme and direction was supposed to be. Instead of getting bogged down on our weaknesses, we need to pool our strengths. In many ways, we complement each other, so I do have great hope for the future, even if we have more questions than answers right now."

"I still want to thank you for maintaining the hope. I don't like to admit it, but I've had a rather easy life and when I face a large challenge, I'm inclined to feel overwhelmed and quit. I do better in a short term crisis where I don't have time to think about everything that could go wrong."

"That's another way in which we complement each other. About the only time I can handle a crises without going into panic or freeze mode is when I'm very familiar with how the process is supposed to work and can fall back on the step by step process. With a large challenge, if I have time to think about it, usually I'm able to break it down into smaller and smaller pieces which, at least in comparison to the whole, can be solved somewhat easily. Okay, George, how do you complement us?"

He barely has to think before he answers, "Verbally. You ladies are doing very well and I look forward to the wonderful results which you will certainly produce."

Mariam laughs then says, "Thank you, but that's not what I meant."

Sharlene suggests, "He knows what you meant, but he doesn't want to say."

He nods his head as he responds, "Give the little lady a prize. To be blunt, on that subject, and probably many others, I embody both of your weaknesses. In a crisis, I freeze or panic, with a large challenge, I get overwhelmed and quit. My best functioning is in a back corner of a quiet room researching or organizing documents which aren't overly technical and without having a time constraint."

"George, I'm going to express a bit of disbelief. You've provided us with many wonderful ideas, suggestions, and things to think about."

"Well, Mariam, over the many years during which I've plagued the earth with my existence, bits and pieces of flotsam have gotten lodged in my brain and if the circumstances are right, they bubble to the surface and spew forth."

"What's flotsam?"

"Floating garbage."

"George, are you getting tired?"

"I'm sorry, Sharlene. I guess I am."

Mariam suggests, "This is a good place to stop and I need to go home myself."

Sharlene asks her, "Do we have more we need to discuss?

"I don't think so. Just keep writing down your questions and thoughts. I saved the file I was working on under my name and the date. Come on George, stand up and give me a kiss goodbye." A request he's willing to agree to. When she breaks the kiss to let him breathe, Mariam tells him, "Even half asleep, you kiss good."

Sharlene places his hands on her shoulders and guides him to the front door while she says, "Mariam, if you do have more to discuss, give me a call. I'm thinking of spending a few days with George at his place."

"That sounds like a good idea. Keep up the hope and thank you for letting me see some of your relationship with George. I think you two are good for each other." After a good hug and a quick kiss, Mariam is stepping out of the door while she says, "Night."

"Good night, Mariam."

Sharlene steps up to the door to close it, but waits until Mariam has pulled out of the driveway and starts down the street. While she's waiting, George steps up behind her and holds her. After she closes and locks the door and turns out the porch light, Sharlene leans back on him and holds onto his arms which hug her across her upper abdomen while he kisses the top of her head.

"Mmm. You do give such nice hugs and kisses." After a little while, she pulls his arms slightly away from her, pulls up the bottom of her shirt and before he can object, she places his hands on the bare skin of her upper abdomen and moves them across her skin.

As he begins to understand her obvious intent, he wakes up enough to caress her skin while he pays enough attention to stay above the waistband of her slacks and below her bra. "Mmm, such nice skin, so silky smooth," he proclaims as he caresses her across her upper abdomen and to her sides.

"Ohhh, you touch so nice." As she slowly turns to be perpendicular to him, his caresses move across her upper abdomen and across her back while she reaches up and pulls his head down to kiss him. When he needs to catch his breath, she turns fully towards him and hugs him tight. Since she feels like she wants more, she almost starts to rub her body on his until she realizes he's almost half asleep and barely standing up. With reluctance, she pushes a little ways away from him and suggests, "Come on, George, it's time for bed."

While he rests his hands on her shoulders, she walks him to the bedroom. He wakes up just enough to go to the bathroom and put his pajamas on and as he lays down in bed, he's almost immediately asleep.

Sharlene goes back to the other room, turns off her computer and puts it away, checks the doors and windows, turns out the lights, and goes back to the bedroom. Even though she knows he's fully asleep, she still feels a bit of risque pleasure as she undresses in front of him and puts her pajamas on. When she finishes getting ready for bed, she crawls in and cuddles up next to him. A little later, and while she feels a mixture of guilt, curiosity, excitement, and a determination not to be shocked later in the journey, she slips her hand into the fly of his pajamas and, again, she compares what she feels with the diagrams and descriptions in her medical textbooks.

A few minutes later, as she continues to gently explore his male anatomy, she's surprised to feel his penis grow larger then is further surprised to realize that his body is beginning to respond to her touching, even though he's asleep. It's quite a revelation to her to consider that the male response can be an automatic response with no conscious control or even conscious awareness involved. As she thinks about that, her appreciation and amazement of George's control of his behavior significantly increases. Before his penis is fully stiff, she removes her hand and hugs his chest and while she tries to consider all that it might mean, she falls asleep.

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2147-08-30 (m1)

While she lays there cuddled up to George's side with her left arm across his chest, Sharlene just smiles at how comfortable she feels next to him and with his arm around her back. As she remembers how easily his body responded to her touching last night, even though he was asleep, she marvels again that he's been able to restrain himself from acting on his responding body while he touches her to so much pleasure. Before she allows that thought to progress much further, she gets up and goes to the other room to distract herself with a high intensity martial arts workout.

Since he's still asleep when she finishes, she decides to get her shower out of the way. With clean clothes in hand, she goes into the bathroom and while she's not sure who she's protecting from whom, she locks the door. As she washes her hair, she remembers him playing in it and his dreamy smile after he brushed it the first time.

After her hair is rinsed, she starts to wash her body and remembers how his hands on her bare skin felt last night and wonders what it would might have been like if his hands had slid up a little higher to touch her breasts or to touch her nipples as she uses her hands as substitutes and moans in pleasure. Or if his hand had slid under the waistband of her pants and caressed her lower abdomen, or even slid lower, she groans, to caress around her pubic area and across her vulva. As she imagines it's his hand which is touching her, her fingers slip into her labia and as they circle her clitoris, she cries out with her climax while she imagines it's his fingers which continue to touch her clitoris and take her to new heights of pleasure.

Her expression of pleasure comes through the closed bathroom door loudly enough to startle him awake. He's almost immediately aware of his own predicament and grabs a couple of tissues to mostly contain his mess before it gets on her bed. As he more fully wakes up, he hears the shower and realizes he had been dreaming of being with her in the shower. While he barely resists the temptation to join her, he hopes she's locked the bathroom door in case his resistance gets overwhelmed by his desire. Slowly, he gets up, goes to the guest bathroom, washes up, empties his bladder, and throws on his clothes from yesterday. Maybe after breakfast, he can get a bath.

As she comes down from off of the heights of pleasure, she finishes washing herself and rinses off. How long is she going to be able to imagine him touching her, before she insists that he touch her for real? Every couple of days he's touching her a little more, so she tells herself to practice some more patience.

She looks back in time and when she reminds herself that he's been touching her for less than two weeks, they're doing a lot of touching. Before George, she would have been surprised if she let a man touch her as much as he has after twenty weeks of a relationship. She settles down some as she dries herself until she gets to her pubic area then she has to bite her lip and strictly control her fingers to dry and not play. She calms down more as she puts on a medium weight shirt and pants as though she thinks they will prevent her from being able to touch herself.

As she steps out of the bathroom, she sees him sitting on the end of the bed. Without a word, she hands him her comb and brush, turns around, and sits on his legs so he can brush her hair. When he sets the comb and brush aside, she lets him play in her hair for awhile. Just as she's about to tease him for playing in it for so long, he asks her for a ponytail maker. She points to the brush and he sees a ponytail maker wrapped around the handle. "Oh, duh," he responds as he takes it off of the brush, puts it on her hair, and asks her, "There, how's that?"

She gets up to look in the bathroom mirror with a hand mirror and sees that he's braided her hair starting from her neck on down with a soft braid, which on her black hair, seems to melt from one strand into the next. It probably isn't going to stay braided that way all day, but it gives her hair a soft look, will keep it from flying all over, and doesn't pull her scalp. As she lowers the hand mirror, she looks at him in amazement, then raises the hand mirror, looks at the braid again and says, "George, it's lovely. How did you know how to do it?"

"Um, I didn't. I just tried it. I think it's a little crooked and it probably won't last all day. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind? Of course not. I like it. I think I'll appoint you as my official hair dresser. What other styles do you know?"

A moment later, he swallows nervously then manages to say, "Uh, . . . none. If you want something other than a sloppy braid or loose, I'll have to get a book and practice."

"What's with the nervous reaction?"

He drops his head before he softly answers, "Um, I would prefer not to say."

She sets her hand mirror down, steps over to him, pulls his head up, looks directly into his eyes, and says, "George, we've talked about a lot of things which have been embarrassing to both of us. Nothing you've said has sent me screaming from the room or throwing you out of the door. Is what you were thinking any worse than some of those?"

"Um, probably not. I just don't like to admit I can't control my thoughts."

"None of us can really control our thoughts. I'm amazed at how well you control your actions. Now, what was this terrible thought?"

He hesitates before he says, "When you said hair dresser, the first thought that popped into my head was dressing you in your hair."

"You mean, . . . only in my hair?"

He hesitates then just nods his head.

She pauses then kisses his forehead before she says, "Not yet."

Since he's quite surprised she didn't react, it takes him a little while before he can ask, "You're not upset?"

"No, my lusty old man. For many years, I set aside the whole notion of physical affection, other than hugs from my family, in order to concentrate on my education. Much to my surprise, and probably to the future shock of my family, when I set that aside it didn't mean I totally rejected or removed the desire from my personality. Just as you buried your kindness and gentleness, so I buried my desire for intimate physical affection and, as I've recently discovered, my desire as a female to be considered attractive. As our journey has led us to this point, I've started to unbury those desires. The more you express your desire for me and your attraction to me, the more my desires are unburied.

"You've made it clear you find me physically attractive, but you've also made it clear that your attraction for me goes much deeper than just my external appearance. For that I'm deeply grateful. That's a long winded way of saying," she brushes his face with the end of her braid, "that to hear you say you would like to see me clothed only in my hair, and for me to know you mean it, makes my heart sing." She leans over a little more and kisses him quite thoroughly.

He places his hands on her waist then lifts some of her weight off of the floor and in a semi-controlled fall, he leans back onto the bed and pulls her with him, without breaking the kiss. Almost immediately, he slides his hands from her waist to wrap his arms around her back. In a couple of moments, he breaks the kiss and pants out, "Sorry."

She looks around and asks, "How did you do that?"

"Don't . . . know . . . ."

She mentally shrugs her shoulders then leans back down to kiss his neck and nuzzle his ears.

When his breathing is more or less back to normal, he almost gasps out, "What a woman you are!"

As she caresses his face with a single fingertip, she tells him, "Whatever kind of woman I am, it's because you've unburied, no, not unburied. The woman who was in me was only a seed that with your kindness, gentleness, and desire to help me enjoy pleasure, has sprouted, grown, and blossomed. Any other man I've known or heard of, would have scorched the seed and killed it, but you've made it grow and blossom. Thank you, George Greyson," and she kisses him again to breathlessness.

He finally gets enough breath to speak, "Whoa, lady. As much as I treasure and enjoy your kisses and passion, I'm running out of energy. And as much as my body enjoys your body, if I have another release, I'll probably sleep for hours."

She looks at him in surprise and asks, "You've already had a release today?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Just before I woke up."

Her eyes open wide and it takes here a little while to ask in astonishment, "Before you woke up!?!"

"Yes."

"How did you do that when you were asleep?"

"I was dreaming of being in the shower with you."

"Dreaming . . . in the shower . . . with me?"

"I wasn't all wet when I woke up, so it must have been a dream, although I don't recall ever having such a vivid dream before. You're truly an inspiration to me."

"Oh my."

"What?"

"Um . . . I . . . uh . . ."

"What's the matter?"

In a rush of words, she admits, "In the shower, I was touching myself and wishing it was you who was touching me."

"That's what woke me. I heard something, but didn't know what it was. It was your cry of pleasure."

"I think that's the only noise I made which might have been loud enough for you to hear over the noise of the water."

He gently caresses her face, "I guess great minds think alike."

"Or is it that we each inspire desire in the other and that's the only thing on our minds."

"Yeah, that's probably much closer to the truth for my mind rather than it being great."

* * * * *

2147-08-30 (m2)

While George tries to give her a firm but gentle shove to roll her off of him, Sharlene grabs ahold of him and pulls him on top of her then 'accuses him', "I do believe, sir, that you're getting a little friendly."

"Why not," and he attempts to kiss her breathless, but he only succeeds in running out of breath himself. When he somewhat goes limp on top of her as he tries to catch his breath, she's somewhat surprised by his weight, but then, she reminds herself, she's not had anything except a stuffed toy lay on top of her before. Even while she feels like it's a super hug, she realizes it wouldn't take long to become uncomfortable.

Yet, isn't this something like the typical position for sexual intercourse with the man on top? Maybe there are other reasons to be creative. Or is there more to the man being on top than trying to share pleasure? Like a position of authority or power? She'll have to ask him about it some time.

When he braces his arms on either side of her to start to take his weight off of her, she mentally breathes a sigh of relief. Instead of getting the rest of the way up, he rests his weight on his elbows and as he slides his body down hers, he 'walks' his elbows backwards and trails his fingers along her side which causes her sigh to become of an entirely different nature. After his hands have moved part of the way down her body, he pulls the bottom of her shirt up to just above the waistband of her pants and kisses her bare skin. Her moans turn to groans as she realizes how close he is to where she wants him to touch her. Before the thought reaches her conscious mind to guide his head or hands to between her legs, he kisses the tops of her knees and stands up.

"Come, my lady. As much as I want to stay and play, reality has a rude way of intruding."

As he reaches out a hand to pull her up, Sharlene sees the tremor in his hand and is instantly contrite as she gets up and says, "Oh, George, I'm sorry. I was so wrapped up in my pleasure, I forgot about your needs."

He places a finger on her lips and tells her, "Shhh, so did I, until I couldn't ignore it any more. You're such a delight. I can think of nothing better to do than to touch you and play with you."

As they walk to the kitchen with his hands on her shoulders as a precaution, she suggests, "So, do we change our playground to your place for a few days?"

"If you don't mind."

"Mind? Actually I'm quite curious about what your home is like and how it reflects your personality. Now sit down at the table while I fix some breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll warn you to prepare yourself for a somewhat bare and dull house. There's minimum furniture of a rather plain style, no pictures on the walls, wood floors. I do have a few hand woven decorative wool rugs hanging on the walls. I don't have much more furniture than you do, other than a few bookcases."

"From what Aunt Paula said you have more than a few bookcases."

"Yeah, I suppose a few is a bit of an understatement."

"So, how many do you have?"

He shrugs his shoulders as he says, "I don't remember exactly, probably in the vicinity of a hundred and fifty."

She looks at him in surprise then says, "That's a whole lot more than a few, George. Is the rest of your house as much of an understatement as your library?"

"Without including the library, it's somewhat bigger than your house. I know it's more than one person needs, but I had the opportunity to build it how I wanted it, so I did. A big library, lots of elbow room, wide hall and doorways, two guest bedrooms almost as big as the so called master bedroom. Well, you'll see what I mean."

"Here you go, eat up. After we eat, I want you to rest. I have a couple of phone calls to make, and a few chores to take care of. I thought we could eat lunch here and then take an easy drive up to your place. I also thought of fixing dinner at Aunt Paula's tonight, but I haven't talked to her, so I don't know if they have plans or not."

"That sounds fine to me. That reminds me, I don't remember what I have to eat at home or what might not have survived in the fridge. We may need to make a trip to the grocery store."

She suggests, "Let's see what's there first and whether we can bum a meal off of Aunt Paula."

"If you're willing to cook it, she'll gladly let you bum a meal."

"I know. I don't spend a lot of time in the kitchen, but when it's eaten with appreciation, it makes the fixing of it much easier. That's why I don't mind cooking for you. You also appear to appreciate it."

"I do appreciate it, Sharlene, and feel somewhat guilty that I don't reciprocate. Of course, you'll probably prefer your own cooking after you've tried mine."

"Is your cooking that bad?"

"Not necessarily bad, just rather dull, no creativity, and very repetitious. Sometimes when my parents went out for an evening, since I was the oldest, I got stuck with fixing dinner for my siblings. The joke around the family was that the only thing I knew how to cook was boiled non-spicy sausages served with the basic condiments and a slice of bread for a bun. I think I'm the poorest cook in the family and have an even smaller repertoire than my mother did and she didn't like to cook."

After breakfast is cleaned up and to help her resist the temptation to sit on his upper legs and cuddle for the rest of the day, Sharlene helps George stand up, kisses him, then tells him, "That ought to hold you while you rest and I take care of a couple of chores."

"Somehow, I'll tough it out. By the way, after I rest awhile, do you mind if I take a bath?"

"Not at all. Since I've already had a shower, we won't get in each other's way."

"That's probably a good thing for now. Off to your chores, woman." He grabs a quick kiss then suggests, "There, maybe I can tough it out now with that reinforcement."

"Yes, boss." She goes to the other room, calls her aunt, and finds out that they have already made plans for the evening, but will gladly have her cook dinner for them tomorrow evening. She promises to stop by when they get into town. A little later, Sharlene calls Mariam and confirms that they're going to George's later today, but can still be reached either at her phone or her aunt's phone number. She briefly steps back into the other room, asks George what his phone number is, and passes it onto Mariam.

She takes a moment or two to collect her thoughts then she calls Klara and fills her in on what the schedule is for the Project to go on the market according to the information which Mariam was able to provide her. Sharlene also tells Klara that she'll be going to George's for the next few days, imagines Klara's raised eyebrows, and passes on George's phone number and makes sure that Klara has Paula's phone number. Once the phone calls are taken care of, Sharlene runs a couple of errands and on the way back, stops by the post office to pick up her mail.

Since he's fallen asleep, she goes through her mail and makes sure her bills are paid. As she mentally checks off her chores, she goes next door and lets her police officer neighbor know she'll be out of town for a few days. She's soon back in the house and sees that he's still asleep so she steps back out to make a quick check of her vehicle, then goes back inside to finish packing.

After that is taken care of, she checks her watch and figures it's about time for her to send George to his bath and take care of any perishables in the fridge. She steps over to the love seat and watches him for a little while then she crawls onto the love seat, straddles his legs, and sits on his knees. She looks at him a little longer then leans over and unbuttons his shirt. As she checks his surgery site, she sees that the incisions are almost totally healed. She also looks more closely at the scar from the .22 bullet which caused the blockage in his artery.

While she looks over his chest and upper abdomen for other scars, she becomes aware that she's sliding her hands over his skin and finds that it's not as wrinkled as she had guessed an older person's skin would be. It's not long before she's deliberately caressing his skin and he's alternately humming and moaning in response. A little later, she leans over, puts her left hand on the back of the love seat in order to support herself and while her right hand caresses his skin, she kisses the center of his chest and slowly kisses her way up to his neck, around to an earlobe, and across to his lips which readily respond. When he needs to breathe, she sits up and goes back to caressing his chest and upper abdomen which causes him to look down in surprise and half gasp out, "What . . . doing?"

"I think it's rather obvious what I'm doing. I undid your shirt to check your surgery site, and the scar from the .22 bullet then I started to look for other scars and found myself caressing your skin and enjoying it. I also thought it's time to wake you up to get the bath you mentioned and since people usually take their shirt off before they take a bath, I thought I could take care of two things at once. I hope you don't mind."

"I like it lots. . . . Just be careful . . . not go too far."

"And how far is too far?" she slides her fingertips down his chest to his waist which causes his moan of pleasure to sound more like a groan and she starts to undo his belt buckle.

Quickly, his grabs her hands and gently, but firmly, holds them on her legs and says, "That is."

As she gives him a bit of a sly smile, she asks, "You don't want help getting ready for your bath?"

"Lady, want? Yes. Need? No. Go much further that way and I'll disappoint us both and lose control."

"I'm sorry, George. I don't mean to push you too far, but since my sexual desires have been awakened, I'm having a hard time doing my own controlling. And I don't even know if how I'm doing things is good, appropriate, nice, enjoyable, or anything else."

"I can't claim to have a lot of experience, but in my opinion, you have a strong natural talent for doing the most wonderful things and making the most sensuous moves, and I'm thoroughly enthralled."

* * * * *

2147-08-30 (m3)

Sharlene looks at him in surprise then asks, "Really? I thought it was something that had to be learned."

"There is a lot that can be learned, but just like any other ability in life, some people have a more natural aptitude. I think you probably had a fairly easy time learning tai-chi and martial arts compared to other people who can work at it their entire life and only be mediocre. So it is with moving in an appealing manner and touching in an enticing manner, you appear to have a natural ability."

"I don't know, George," she leans forward over him with her hands placed on his chest for support then leans sideways onto her lower left leg to take her weight, pivots her right knee outwards, slides her right foot from his knee to about the middle of his calf, pivots her right knee inwards and puts it down next to the middle of his thigh. "I know you don't try to flatter me for your own gain," she leans sideways onto her right knee to take her weight, pivots her left knee outwards, slides her left foot from his knee to about the middle of his calf, "but I still have a hard time believing you," she pivots her left knee inwards, and puts in down next to the middle of his thigh, "when you talk about me that way."

She lowers her torso onto his body which leaves her buttocks higher than the rest of her, pauses, then slides her body up his while she lowers her buttocks as she goes until they're lip to lip and she kisses him. All he can do is groan, return her kiss, wrap his arms around her, and hug her tight. When she allows him to breathe and starts to kiss his neck, she also starts to squirm her torso, and with his partially unbuckled belt dragging across her lower abdomen just above her pubic area, it encourages her to spread her legs more. His breathing becomes more rapid and in a short time, he arches his torso up which causes her to slide up his body a couple of inches so his belt buckle presses through her pants onto the top of her vulva and he hugs her tighter. In a moment, he tenses and after a soundless cry, accompanied by her verbal cry, they relax and breathe heavily onto each other's necks.

When his breathing is halfway normal, he kisses her deeply and passionately, although too briefly for either of them. When he has enough breath, he proclaims, "Oh . . . lady . . . ."

"Thank you, George."

"Huh? Why thank me? You're the one who made all of the right moves. I guess you don't recognize it, but virtually every move you've made since you starting waking me up has been sexually stimulating. And you do it so naturally and smoothly, it's incredible."

Again, she looks at him in surprise and asks, "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"I can imagine that for me to lay on you and kiss you could be stimulating, but the other things?"

"You've wanted to open your shirt and have me caress your chest, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Didn't you want me to do it because you thought it would be sexually exciting?"

"Yes."

"I know I don't have nearly as many nerve endings on my chest as you do, but for a beautiful woman to open my shirt and caress my skin . . . that's quite exciting. And then you started to undo my pants."

"Oh, I guess that could be rather stimulating."

He nods his head as he responds, "Quite so."

"And then I laid on you which I know you enjoy."

"It isn't just the fact that you laid on me which was so exciting, but how you went from sitting on my knees to laying on me was done in a stimulating manner."

"I know you like to watch me, George, but that seems like you were reading more into my moves than would be reasonable."

"Maybe so. Tell you what, now that I'll probably see it as exciting rather than overwhelming, why don't you do it again, slowly, and I'll try to explain how I see it as exciting."

Sharlene thinks about that for a little while then says, "Okay. If I'm aware of how my movements are being perceived, then I can think about whether or not I want to move in that manner."

"That's right. You can't control the reaction of another person, but if you can control what may cause a reaction in the other person, then you might be able to control the strength of the other person's reaction."

She slides her body a little ways down his body before she leans to her left side, raises her buttocks slightly to pull her right leg up and tuck her knee alongside his upper left thigh. Then she leans onto her lower right leg, raises her buttocks more, pulls her left leg up, tucks her knee alongside his upper right thigh, lowers herself to support her weight equally on her lower legs, arches her back up, and slides her hands down his chest, down his hips, and up her legs as she sits up then sits back on his knees.

He groans, "I don't know if I can go through this again."

"What's the matter, George?"

"Maybe I'm biased in how I look at you or maybe I'm just a lustful dirty old man, I don't know. I'm not attempting to embarrass you or make you feel bad, but simply to express how I interpret your moves whether what I think is right or wrong. With that being said, in my opinion, moves like what you just did in sitting up would make a monk want to forsake his vow of chastity."

"I'll admit that I did slide my hands purposely down your chest to excite you, but the rest I'll leave in your realm of bias until you can explain it otherwise."

George takes a deep breath, slowly lets it out, and says, "Fair enough. I guess the first thing would be to try to define why some movements can be considered sensuous while others might not. Of course, this is going to be rather subjective, but I think I can define it in a way which might by consistent with a majority of people. I'm sure you've noticed how facial expressions can be used to say, without words, 'stay away' or 'come closer'."

"Yes."

"In the same way, body expressions can give the same messages. Obviously, a shaking fist or hands firmly on the hips with elbows jutting out are 'stay away' messages," as she demonstrates with his explanation. "That's right. Now how would you express 'come closer' with body expressions?"

Sharlene crooks her index finger and pulls it towards herself then frowns and says, "I'm not sure how else to express 'come closer' using my body without my face." He holds out his hand to shake hers. She nods her head, "Oh, yeah." Then he holds his arms wide for the common 'hug me' expression which encourages her to respond, "That's a little more 'come closer' than I want to generally practice, but you've made your point."

"When you've heard people talk or seen how they dress or seen advertisements which are apparently intended to emphasize sexuality, what parts of the body seem to be emphasized?"

"The breasts of a woman, a woman's legs, the pubic area, and . . . the buttocks."

"So, to move sexually would be to move in a way which would display or draw attention to those areas of the body."

She thinks for a moment then says, "That makes sense. Like women who thrust out their breasts, especially when they're wearing low cut shirts or swivel their hips when they walk."

"That's right. Some moves are less obvious than those, but they still present a message which the sender hopes is understood by the observer. At other times, the sender is trying too hard to send a message and it comes across as overdone and cheap. As you understand how your moves might be interpreted, I hope you don't change how you move, because you move so gracefully and beautifully, but, if appropriate, you may want to change when you move in certain ways to potentially reduce the unwanted reactions of other people."

She nods her head then responds, "Okay, George, I think I understand the background. Now, how did the way I move from sitting here to laying on you to kiss you, excite you?"

"If you can remember, try to make the same moves slowly and I'll stop you and try to explain why I would interpret a particular move as enticing."

"First, I leaned over you with my hands placed here."

"And why might I consider that exciting?"

"I'm much closer to you."

"Mmm, yes. You're also very much in easy touching distance. And if you were wearing a shirt or a dress with a looser neckline, the neckline would be gaping and I would have a wonderful view."

"Now that you mention it, I've seen women with loose or low cut necklines bend over and display more of their breasts than I thought they would want to, yet I also received the impression that sometimes they were doing it on purpose."

He nods his head as he says, "They probably were, yet at the same time, some women seem to be unaware of how much a loose or low neckline can gap and how much is revealed. Or they wear such necklines to do it on purpose, occasionally without realizing how many everyday normal moves can have the same results. I'm sorry, it just dawned on me that you might get tired of holding your position while we discuss it. If you get tired, just quit and we'll either talk about it without you going through the physical moves or we can do it some other time."

* * * * *

2147-08-30 (m4)

Sharlene responds, "Thank you for thinking of that. Maybe a little tiredness on my part will distract me from how much I enjoy making you excited, even if I don't understand yet which moves do so and how. Are you ready for the next move?"

"Yes. When you make it, please watch your movement and maybe you can tell me why I might find it exciting."

"Okay. I leaned slightly to my left side to take my weight on my arms and left leg, then pivoted my right knee out, slid my foot down your leg, then put my knee down. Sliding my foot down your leg was like caressing your leg and when I put my knee down, the length of my lower leg was touching your leg."

George briefly waits to see if she's going to say more before he asks, "Is there anything else?"

She thinks for a moment then answers, "Um, no."

"When you pivoted your right knee out, what happened to the distance between your knees?"

"It increased."

"So you were spreading your legs apart."

"Yes."

"And what's between your legs?"

Even though she feels somewhat foolish, Sharlene still automatically looks in response to his question and says, "Oh. . . . So spreading my legs is like the 'come closer' signal of arms spreading wide for a hug."

"A hug of a more intimate nature, especially considering where your body is located in comparison to mine."

"Oh my. I would have never thought of it, but I can see how it could easily be viewed that way."

"I think you would have thought about it sooner or later, but I prefer that you understand sooner."

"So when you kissed my calves and my legs were spread, yes, I can see it certainly would look like an invitation to an intimate hug. And then just a few minutes ago, when I pivoted my left knee to move my leg, it was like I gave you a second invitation."

He nods his head as he responds, "That's right."

"My next move was to lower my torso and slide my body up your body which I'm sure you enjoyed."

"No doubt about me enjoying your body on mine, but there was more to the move which was exciting."

Once again, she looks at him in surprise and asks, "Really?"

"Oh yes, really! If you don't mind and if you remember, place yourself in the position you were in after you lowered your torso, but before you slid your body up my body. What do you see?"

"My legs are spread straddling your legs and my buttocks are higher in the air than the rest of me."

"Does that suggest anything?"

"Well, my legs are hugging your legs."

"Yes. Imagine a two dimensional plane across the backs of your thighs. If you reach one of your hands around behind you, what's right behind that plane and slightly lower to the ground than your buttocks?"

She reaches around and as she touches what's right there, her eyes go wide even as she groans with pleasure. Before her exploration can distract her more, he gently pulls her hand away and kisses it. He raises her body, straightens it, and lays it on him.

"Thank you. I was almost ready to forget what we were discussing. So with my buttocks raised and my legs somewhat spread, you would see it as displaying my pubic area and inviting you to touch it."

"That's exactly right."

"To be honest, George, I wish you would touch me there."

"Soon, my sexy lady, soon. Do you have a better understanding of why I say your moves are so exciting?"

"Yes. It never occurred to me that so many of my movements would have special meaning to you."

He nods his head then says, "That can be a problem when you gracefully and quite innocently make essentially normal moves and a lustful old man like me observes and tries to add a sexual interpretation to every move. The turning of a leg, the extension of a hand, the tilt of your head, the twist of your torso, they all add to your attractiveness in my mind."

As one of her hands turns his head towards hers, Sharlene says, "Interpret this," and kisses him breathless. She leans on her left side while she lets him catch his breath and suggests, "Before I get all excited again, you need to get your bath and finish packing and I'll fix some lunch and see what perishable foods I'll need to take with us so it doesn't spoil in my fridge while we're gone. And George," as she aimlessly makes patterns across his chest with her right hand, "I'm glad you find me attractive and I look forward to the day when you feel free to respond to my non-verbal invitations to touch me." After she thoroughly kisses him again, she gets off of the love seat, looks at him for a little while, then goes to the kitchen and gets busy to distract herself.

It takes a couple of minutes of stunned amazement while he's trying to get his breathing under control before George shakes his head in almost disbelief at what she continues to tell him and do to him, gets off of the love seat, and goes to the bathroom to take a bath.

When she hears the bath water running through the closed door of the guest bathroom, Sharlene goes to her bedroom and changes her panty. As she rummages through her chest of drawers, she gets all of her panties, including the ones she hadn't returned in the past which weren't as comfortable as her usual brand and puts them in her luggage. She wonders what he would think if she had to wash a whole load of panties in a couple of days, no doubt he would find the whole idea exciting. Well, it certainly would be exciting to get into that condition.

She reminds herself that's enough thinking in that direction or she's going to end up in the bathtub with him. As he keeps saying, there's time enough for it all, so she should be patient, enjoy it while it goes, and get busy to distract her from continuing such thoughts. After she closes her luggage again, she goes back to the kitchen to keep busy.

While he gets dressed after his bath, George contemplates what she might do with her better understanding of how her movements excite him. If he's honest with himself, he's almost afraid of her making any change to her normal movements. He doesn't want her to downplay her movements because it's so enjoyable to watch her, but at the same time, he doesn't want her to enhance her movements to further inflame his own desires. Does he regret how she's letting him be a part of her life?

After a moment's more thought, he acknowledges, not at all!! She's just too wonderful and being with her is the best thing that's ever happened to him. A little agony of exercising some self-discipline is well worth all of the joy she brings to his life. He goes to the kitchen and finds that she has lunch ready. When they're done quietly eating the meal, he leans back, says, "Thank you, lady," and briefly caresses her shin with his sock covered foot.

"You're welcome, old man," and she returns his caress to his surprise then explains, "I like to touch, too."

"Mmm, I won't argue with you. Now's probably not the best time to get into a contest of who likes to touch the most."

"We could try some time, but there could be no winner in that contest since the criteria is too subjective."

"Humm, I have to disagree with you. Yes, the criteria is too subjective, but even if there was a way to be objective about it, I would win whether I technically won or lost the contest, simply because of the touching involved."

"You're right. That's even better, a contest in which neither of us can fail to be winners. When do we start?"

He laughs then proclaims, "You incredible woman! I think we're doing very well with the touching and really don't need to put the idea of a contest into our touching. I would much prefer our touching to be cooperative rather than competitive."

"I agree. So why did you bring up the idea of a contest?"

"I don't know, maybe as an excuse to touch you more?"

"You hardly need an excuse since I've already given you permission."

"I know. Sharlene, I guess I still find it hard to believe that you like me to touch you and even harder to believe that you like to touch me."

"Well, believe it, old man, because I'm going to keep on demonstrating that both are true."

"I must admit that your demonstrations are making me into more of a believer. I'm ashamed of my disbelief when you're making it so clear. I guess after decades of experience, I should be a little more patient in changing my mind-set."

"Ah, but, George, I thought you said you had died and were starting your life over again."

"You're right. Humm, that could be a rather liberating thought. I'll have to think about the implications of that and keep reminding myself. Maybe I can input a new version of personality software without rewriting the older version one line of code at a time."

"While you're doing that, go get your luggage ready and I'll clean up the lunch stuff." She stands up, holds out her hands to him, pulls him to his feet, and tells him, "And to briefly demonstrate that I do want you to touch me and that I want to touch you, give me a good kiss first." It's a demand to which he's only too happy to comply with. In a few minutes, they have the vehicle loaded, the house locked, and are on their way.

* * * * *

2147-08-30 (a1)

About three hours later, after a couple of stops along the way, once at a roadside park to use the restrooms and stretch their legs and once to buy some ice cream cones, they pull in at Paula's store. They're warmly greeted and as Sharlene chats with Paula, George wanders over to the shop to visit with Paul for a little while. Since they don't want to interrupt Paula and Paul's work too much and since they have plans made for dinner tomorrow night, in a few minutes they're back in her personal vehicle for the short drive to his house.

When they pull in his driveway and then she parks next to his house, George is surprised at how much he missed the place, especially considering how seldom he thought about his home while he was at Sharlene's. Before he can think much about it, he opens the vehicle door and finds a bundle of fur in his arms. "Molly!! You wonderful lady." After he hugs her and gets a brief wet lick in response, he asks, "How can I ever thank you?"

A few moments later, she backs out of the vehicle, allows him to stand up and she stands next to him while he vigorously ruffles her fur to her obvious enjoyment. When Sharlene comes around the end of the vehicle, Molly goes to her for a hug and gives her a brief lick also. After she pets Molly for a little while, Sharlene stands up and opens the back of the vehicle.

As she looks up, she sees that Molly is returning with something in her mouth and sets it in George's hand. He throws it and Molly charges after it. He notices Sharlene's quizzical expression and explains, "Tennis ball", but before he can say more, Molly puts it back into his hand, he says, "Good girl," and she enjoys his brief petting then chases it again. This time, Molly brings the ball and after she briefly looks at her, Molly puts it down in front of Sharlene.

She somewhat gingerly picks up the ball, looks it over, shrugs her shoulders, and throws it. For the next few minutes, they play with Molly, throw the ball for her to chase or toss the ball between them while Molly dashes back and forth or play tug-of-war with a short piece of heavy rope which Molly brought back instead of the ball. After awhile, Molly goes to each of them for another hug and petting, picks up her rope, and disappears around the back of the house.

He turns to Sharlene and says, "Okay, Molly's happy. We can take the stuff in the house now."

"Is she always like this when you come home?"

"No. But this is the longest I've been gone since she showed up. I play with her when she wants. Sometimes she wants to play chase the ball two or three times in a day or I might not see her for three or four days in a row. Molly is Molly. I never quite know what to expect out of her. And I don't understand why she allows me to pet her when she avoids almost every other man."

"Maybe she recognizes your kindness and gentleness."

"I think it's something else because Paul's kind and gentle, and he can occasionally pet her, but she won't let him hug her. I don't understand why she wants my attention, so I've learned to just accept it and give her the attention she requests when she wants it. Kind of like you, I don't understand why you want my attention, but I'm learning to accept it."

Just before he puts his key in the house door lock, Sharlene turns his head, tells him, "Thank you for accepting it," and kisses him. He just hugs her while he catches his breath.

George unlocks the front door of his house, opens it, bows her in, and says, "Welcome to my humble abode."

As she steps in the door, her eyes scan the front room and she sees some of the hand woven decorative wool rugs he had mentioned hanging on the walls, a dining room table across the room, an entertainment center with a large screen television with a sofa and a love seat in front of it, and "A piano?" She takes a couple of steps towards it then turns, looks at him, and asks, "You play the piano?"

"It's been many years, but I'm trying to pick it back up again."

She gestures towards it and asks, "May I?"

"Of course."

She sits down and after she adjusts the bench, Sharlene tentatively begins to play, stops for a moment, plays something else, stops, readjusts the bench, thinks for a moment and starts to play what sounds like a medley of songs and even styles. When she stops after a few minutes and just looks at the keyboard, he stares at her for a little while in amazement then proclaims, "You're very good."

Sharlene looks up in surprise at him, quickly recovers, stands up, hugs him, and tells him, "Thank you, George. I've forgotten so much and feel so clumsy and rusty. I didn't realize how much I missed playing the piano while I was at the university and medical school. Will you let me play it again?"

"My lady, you can play it anytime you want as long as you don't mind me listening. That was beautiful. I didn't even know you could play the piano. You'll probably wear your fingers out long before I get tired of listening to you."

"Just like you'll wear your fingers out long before you get tired of touching me?"

He grins and says, "That's right." He leans over and kisses her then suggests, "Go ahead and keep playing if you want while I get the rest of the things out of the vehicle."

"No, you're doing better, but you're not fully recovered yet." She takes a couple of steps away then wistfully looks back at the piano.

"Sharlene?"

She turns to look at him and asks, "Yes, George?"

"I may not have planned it ahead of time, but the piano is my gift to you. It's yours. Consider it a 'welcome to my home' gift."

She stares at him then says, "You can't be serious."

"Why not? I've wanted so much to find a way to express my appreciation to you for all you've done for me. Giving you the piano doesn't come close to conveying what I feel, but maybe it can represent a token of what I feel and how grateful I am to you for saving me, for taking care of me, and for letting me be a part of your life."

"Oh George," she hugs him tightly and kisses him breathless. While he pants for breath, she sits him down on the piano bench and tells him, "You catch your breath and I'll get the things in from the vehicle." As she sets the last of the things from the vehicle down and closes the front door, she raises her hand to stop him from getting up. She steps close, puts his hands on her hips, holds on to his shoulders, lifts her right leg over the piano bench, sits on his thighs, swings her left leg over the piano bench, pulls herself tightly to him, and kisses him while his hands slide across her back to hold her close.

When she lets him breathe, she tells him, "Thank you very much for offering me the piano. I'll consider it mine in being able to play it when I want, but I'm not going to take it away. It belongs here and it will encourage me to come often. Not that you aren't an even stronger encouragement with your touching, but you're more transportable." Sharlene kisses him again before he can respond. "I don't know about you, old man. Already you've made me feel at home and I haven't made it more than fifteen feet from the front door."

"Want . . . drink . . . or tour?"

"First, I want you to catch your breath. Then we could both use a drink. I should transfer the perishable foods I brought from my cooler to your fridge." When she notices his grimace, she asks, "What's the matter?"

"Stuff in fridge . . . might be bad."

"We'll just do a quick check and find out." She leans back a little and touches his neck with her right fingertips, and 'reports', "Your pulse is a little fast, but it's good and strong." As she leans forward and hugs him, she whispers in his ear, "You're a wonderful hugger and kisser and toucher. If it were possible, I would stay right here for a very long time. I really enjoy being in your arms and I like you between my legs. I know I don't fully know what to expect, but I do look forward to the day when we can be like this . . . without clothes between us."

He hesitates before he admits, "Oh, lady, so do I. . . . There are several ways in which I would very much like to be touching you right now, but they would interfere with our journey. I'm going to have to ask you to get up before anticipation becomes reality."

As she reverses her earlier moves and gets up, she asks, "Do my movements excite you?"

"Very much, my lady. Of course, it would have been very hard for you to sit on me like that without making very enticing moves."

"Well, let's distract you and go take care of the beasties in your fridge."

* * * * *

2147-08-30 (a2)

George leads her to the kitchen and as she looks around, Sharlene sees that it's spacious and, at least in her opinion, well laid out. Something strikes her as odd, so she looks around more carefully and sees a single sink next to the expected double sink. She step over to it, looks at it, looks at him, and asks, "What's this for?"

"That's for organic wastes. Rather than go into the septic system, it goes into a compost bin for use on the garden."

"What a neat idea."

"Are you ready for a drink?"

"Yes."

He opens the fridge and says, "There are a few beasties in there." He pulls a pitcher out, checks it, and reports, "but it looks like the iced tea is okay." He pours a couple of glasses then suggests, "Just take a sip, if it tastes funny, I'll toss it out and make a fresh batch."

She looks at him over the glass with a sparkle in her eyes and asks, "Are you making me be the taste tester?"

"No. I could taste it first, but I wouldn't recognize a problem with it until there were visible little green islands floating in it."

She takes a sip and tells him, "It's okay, but a little flat. If you want to start a new batch, I'll start checking the fridge." She puts action to her words as she sets her glass down, opens the fridge, and bends over to look in.

With a bit of huskiness to his voice, he says, "Sharlene, please."

She stands up, looks at him, and asks, "What?"

"Please don't bend over in front of me right now."

She looks at the fridge, looks behind her, looks at him, closes the fridge door, steps over to him, and says, "I'm sorry, George."

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one who is overly sensitive and I'm sorry I inflict my problems on you."

"I'm glad you're willing to tell me when my actions bother you rather than have you automatically act on your feelings. I hope that as we spend more time together, you'll either be less sensitive or you'll feel more freedom in responding as you would like to. I suspect it will be a combination of the two."

"Then I had better warn you that if I start to respond even half as much as I would like to, there will barely be enough time for you to eat and sleep, much less try to start and then run a new company. Of course, I would probably just wear myself out and have to sleep half the day."

"You really want me that much?"

He drops his head, pauses, then says, "I'm sorry, but, yes."

"George, you truly are a marvel. Even if you desire me half as much as you say you do, you've shown remarkable restraint. I feel very privileged that you're willing to control yourself while at the same time you touch me and give me incredible pleasure. I look forward to the future steps of our journey, but I also want to remind you that I've given you permission to touch me. As your touching moves closer to being intimate, that only increases my desire for your touching to be actually intimate. Please don't be sorry you have those feelings because I look forward to you expressing them. But if any of my movements or actions bother you, please continue to speak up so I can learn to not do them when they'll be a problem for you. Okay?"

"Thank you for putting up with a dirty old man."

"George, you may be an old man, but there's nothing dirty about you or what you want to do with me. Rather than view your desires as dirty, I think of them as pleasurable, good clean fun if you will. You've given me a lot of pleasure and if the past is any indication of the future, you'll give me a lot more pleasure. Starting now," and she kisses him. As she lets him breathe again, Sharlene holds him tightly with her head on his shoulder. When his breathing settles, she suggests, "Why don't you take our luggage to the bedroom while I take the suspect things out of the fridge and put in the things I brought. Then we can review the suspect things and decide what to do with them."

"I really should clean out my own fridge."

"Don't you want me to feel at home here?"

"Of course."

"Then I can help clean out the fridge. Besides, I don't know where the bedroom is and I want to get the perishable foods I brought put away soon. Okay?"

"Okay."

After she hears him take the luggage down the hall in the direction she suspects the bedroom is, she checks over the contents of the fridge. The milk needs to go as well as a pan of leftovers and the eggs are suspect, since they're past their pull date, but everything else, what little there is, appears to be fine. Once that is taken care of, she pulls the perishable foods out of her cooler and puts them in the fridge. She takes the cooler to set it near the front door and as she returns to the kitchen, she sees him coming down the hall.

He asks, "Did you find many beasties?"

"The milk, a pan of leftovers, and maybe the eggs."

"Okay, let me toss them."

"Is there a special way to use your organic waste sink?"

"No. It's just a regular garbage disposal. The only thing different from a regular sink is the destination." He quickly disposes of the spoiled food and adds the items to an ongoing grocery list on the fridge.

"Are you going to need to go shopping this evening?"

"I'm sorry I didn't pay attention, but do you use milk in your tea?"

She shakes her head as she answers, "No, just sugar."

"Then we can wait with shopping until tomorrow. That will also give me some time to think about what to fix for the next few days and what I will need to buy. If you don't mind waiting a little longer, I'll start a new batch of iced tea before I give you the tour."

"Do you mind if I snoop through your cupboards and familiarize myself with your kitchen?"

"Not at all, snoop away."

After she looks in each cupboard and drawer, she appreciates how everything is neatly organized and there's no crowding of items. She turns to him and remarks, "I like how you have your kitchen laid out, probably because it's similar to how I put things away in my kitchen."

"I noted the similarity when I did a little snooping to set the table that one time. I need to let the tea steep for a few minutes. Are you ready for a tour?"

"Sure."

George takes her hand and leads Sharlene down the hall. The laundry room is back to back with the kitchen and roomy with what appears to be the bottom of a shower stall with faucets at about knee high.

She asks, "What's that?"

"That's where I fill the mop bucket or rinse off my boots after I've worked outside. And behind the door there is a toilet and sink so I don't have to walk through the house with dirty boots or take the time to wash them or take them off."

"Smart."

Across the hall is an empty room. He explains, "This was designed to be a guest bedroom, but without having any guests, I haven't bothered to furnish it." Next to the bedroom is a roomy bathroom and next to that is a furnished bedroom which is definitely larger than the average bedroom with her luggage. Since she's sure it's not his bedroom, she looks at him, but doesn't say anything yet. Across the end of the hall is clearly his bedroom with his luggage and it's only somewhat larger than the guest bedroom with a large roomy attached bathroom.

After they step out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, she asks, "George?"

"Sharlene, you only have one bed and you explained why you invited me to share your bed and I'm very grateful you did so, not only for the medical reasons, but also for the cuddling. Here, I have two beds. I don't want to be so presumptuous as to invite you to share my bed, nor do I want you to feel in any way obligated to do so. I want you to feel complete freedom. If you wish to sleep in the guest bedroom, I'll encourage you to do so. If you wish to sleep with me, I'll welcome you. I hope I haven't offended you in any way, but I want to try to be straightforward and clear."

"Oh George, thank you. When I saw my luggage in the guest bedroom, I was somewhat concerned. I should have realized you were only thinking of my freedom, of allowing me to choose. I really appreciate your consideration. I've thoroughly enjoyed our cuddling, but I've also been aware of increased temptation whenever I wake up next to you. So let me think about it."

"Of course. I won't ask you to decide now or anytime. If you want to think about it for a week or a year, that's your choice. There's another reason I put your luggage in the other room and that is if you want to hang up your clothes, the closet in there is empty and there should be some hangers in there. If there aren't enough hangers in there, I have some unused ones here. Also the drawers in the cabinet should be empty if you want to use them. If you want to use the second bathroom, I'll get some bath towels in there. If you want to use a different kind of soap or shampoo, we can pick it up tomorrow when we shop."

"You can stop."

* * * * *

2147-08-30 (a3)

George looks at her in surprise and asks, "Huh?"

"I've noticed that when you get a little nervous you start talking a little faster and try to cover too many topics all at once. Thank you for being so considerate of me. I really appreciate it."

"I want you to be comfortable and to feel as much at home as possible. Sometimes it can be the little things which make a difference between a person feeling comfortable or like they're stuck in a foreign hotel."

Sharlene assures him, "I know and I thank you again. I still want to see your library and your yard. I'll probably want to spend some time in your library and I'll want to see your yard before it gets dark. I think we have some time for that, so I think I would like to unpack first and hang up a few clothes. While I do that, you can stop playing host for awhile. I think you will probably want to unpack your luggage. Why don't we meet back in the kitchen for another drink before we continue the tour?"

"Oh, the tea, it ought to be well steeped by now. I'd better go take care of that first."

"Kiss me first." Thankfully, at least as far as she's concerned, he relaxes enough to thoroughly respond to her kiss. "Now you can go and take care of the tea." As he almost trots down the hall even while he tries to catch his breath, she goes into the guest bedroom, opens up her luggage, checks out the cabinet drawers, and since she's grateful she doesn't have to live out of her luggage, she transfers her non-hanger clothes to the drawers. When she opens the closet, she's confronted by stacks of boxes with empty hangers just above them and remarks to herself, "I thought he said it was empty." As she steps into the hall, she sees him come around the corner from the kitchen. When he gets closer, she says, "I thought you said the closet is empty."

"It isn't?"

"Unless my eyes are deceiving me, it's full of boxes."

Since he's surprised at that possibility, he asks, "Boxes?" As he looks in, he sees that the closet really is full of boxes. He pulls one out from the top, looks at the label, sets in on the floor, backs up, and sits on the bed with a stunned expression. A little later he says, "I forgot all about those."

When she looks at the label herself it tells her nothing other than the 'to' and 'from' addresses since the rest of the label isn't in the standard language. She sits down next to him, takes his hand, and asks, "What is it?"

"Huh? Oh, I totally forgot about those boxes. It seems like ancient history to see them there."

"What's in them, if I might ask?"

"It's supposed to be lingerie."

Sharlene looks at him in surprise and almost blurts out her questions, "Lingerie? All of them?"

He looks at her and is briefly puzzled at her reaction then he admits, "I guess that does sound rather strange. Let me give you the background. Shortly after I won the money, and my wife and I split it and went our separate ways, an acquaintance wanted to open a lingerie store. He had found a good location, the market statistics looked real good, he had enough money to operate for several months, and he had some stock. The only thing he was missing was some money to finish stocking the store. I was feeling a little flush with newly won money and since the statistics looked so good, I loaned him some money for him to finish stocking the store. Shortly before he was going to open the store, he was diagnosed with an early onset of cancer. I don't even remember what kind it was now.

"Rather than go through trying to open a new store while he battled his cancer, he tried to sell the store, but didn't have any buyers fast enough to suit him. Since we both knew he wouldn't be in a position to pay off my loan, I agreed to take the stock which my money had been used to purchase. I was able to sell some of it and recovered some of my money, but I couldn't find a buyer for the rest. When I moved here, it came with me, I stuck it in the closet, and forgot about it. That's the story. Let me pull it out of the closet so you can hang up your clothes."

"That's an unusual way to end up with a closet full of lingerie, but I believe you. No, you don't need to pull them all out. I won't use more than maybe a foot of closet space. The only thing I could read for sure was the 'to' address and the date. And the boxes look like they haven't been opened in that amount of time."

After he moves one stack of boxes out of the closet and sets them along the wall out of the way, he looks at her, looks at the boxes, and looks back at her before he says, "Sharlene, I don't want you to take what I'm about to say as an inappropriate suggestion, but if you want to look through the boxes, and if you find something you like, take it. Of if you see something that someone you know might like, take it for them. They're not doing me any good just sitting here. If someone you know can make use of them, they're welcome to them.

"These boxes were supposed to be the more petite sizes. For some unknown reason, I was able to sell the larger sizes, but not the smaller sizes. I haven't looked in the boxes, so I have no idea what the contents are, other than general sizes. If you don't want them and don't know of anyone else who might want them, maybe I'll try one more time to sell them or just give them to the local charity thrift store."

"It might be interesting to look through the contents of a lingerie store in private. I feel a little uncomfortable going to the lingerie section of the department store with skimpy women's underwear displayed for the world to see. At the same time, I'm curious and have wondered what some of the designs and fabrics felt like to wear, but I was never curious enough to buy them. I'll need to borrow a knife or scissors to open the boxes. Can I use the other bedroom to sort through the boxes?"

"Sure."

He gets up and starts to grab a box, but she puts her hand on his arm to stop him and suggests, "You don't need to move them now. I want to hang up my clothes. I think you might want to empty your luggage and I still want to see your yard before it gets dark. You don't need to jump and run to please me at my slightest suggestion."

"I guess not. I just want you to be happy."

"George, I'm very happy being with you, being touched by you, and seeing how much you want to please me. Relax, old man, be yourself. That's good enough for me."

"Thank you. If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know."

"I will and you'd better be careful what you say or I might take your 'anything' more literally than you intend at this time." She steps over to him, hugs and kisses him, then suggests, "Go empty your luggage."

"Yes, ma'am."

When she finishes hanging up her clothes, puts her toiletries in the guest bathroom, and closes her now empty luggage, she steps into his bedroom and looks around it a little more closely as he finishes emptying his luggage, closes it, and sets it in a corner of the room.

He asks, "Are you ready for the tour of the yard?"

"Yes." She takes his hand and as they walk down the hall, she notices how wide the hall and the doors to the rooms are and remembers the handrails in the bathrooms then suggests, "It looks like you designed the house to be wheelchair accessible."

"I did. When I had it built, I figured I would live here for the rest of my life and in case I become wheelchair bound, I want to stay independent as long as I can and without having to remodel the house. It cost a little more up front, but it would have cost a whole lot more to remodel it later."

They go out the front door and he leads her around the yard and Molly accompanies them. He shows her his vegetable garden, makes a mental note to thank Paul for watering it, walks her around the inside of his small greenhouse, into the garage with its small wood shop, through the mini-orchard, and then to the back porch of the house where they sit for a little while and pet Molly.

After she had been so firmly intent on reserving judgment, as they sit there she finally admits to herself that she really likes his home. Unless something really strange comes up, she could easily picture herself living here. She's still trying to hold off on saying 'with him' since she hasn't yet seen him fully functioning in his own environment.

"George, you have a real nice place here. Thank you for showing it to me."

"It's my pleasure and I'm glad you like it."

"You must spend a lot of time to take care of it."

"It usually doesn't take that much time to keep it up because I tried to think through how things would work up front and planned accordingly. Probably all I need to do is cut the grass and go through the garden and take out any weeds, harvest whatever is ripe, and water it."

"If you show me how to do things the way you like them, I would like to help."

He looks at her in surprise and asks, "Really?"

"When I was young, I enjoyed helping out on my maternal grandparents' farm and my paternal grandparents' ranch."

"Maybe you can teach me a few things."

She shakes her head then says, "Probably not, I was more interested in helping with the animals than tending vegetables. I might like to take another look in your greenhouse. My paternal grandmother has a nice herb garden and I think I recognized a couple of herbs you have which she also grows. She liked herbs which were good for cooking as well as those which had some medicinal properties."

"I have a few herbs I use for cooking or making tea. I really don't know anything about their medicinal properties. A couple of herbs I grow just because I like the look or smell of them, but have no clue had to use them. When I looked them up in a couple of books I have, the references were rather skimpy and didn't really say how they could be used."

* * * * *

2147-08-30 (a4>e1)

"Speaking of books, I've been anxious to look at your library."

"Sure, come on. Why don't I give you a quick tour then I'll let you browse on your own while I throw something together for dinner?"

"Do you want help with dinner?"

"I've been debating throwing a frozen pizza in the oven or whipping up a pot of soup which would be easy because I have the ingredients already prepared. Does either sound preferable to you?"

"A pizza will give you more time to show me your library, besides I could use another drink and a bathroom trip."

"While you're doing that, I'll get the pizza in the oven and a fresh drink for you."

After they make bathroom trips and have a drink, he takes the kitchen timer with him, takes her hand, walks her to the library, opens the door, and turns on the lights. She takes a few cautious steps in, looks around her in amazement, turns back to him, proclaims, "George," almost leaps on him to hug and kiss him, "it's wonderful."

When she releases him, she turns back and walks down an aisle, looks at the listing at the end of a row of bookcases and at the neatly labeled shelves. Most of the shelves are quite full, but not stuffed, and there are some small empty spaces here and there to accommodate some future growth.

Sharlene doesn't hear the timer 'ding' or see George leave the room. He sets the table, takes the pizza out of the oven, cuts it, refreshes their drinks, and puts them on the table before he goes back to the library. He gently calls her name but receives no response. Finally, he steps up to her and touches her arm.

Startled, she turns, looks at him, and says, "Hi, George."

"Hello beautiful, it's time for dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Food."

"Oh, dinner. I'm sorry, I forget where I was. You have a wonderful library. How much have I seen?"

"You've walked through about a third of it."

"Is that all? Can I come back after dinner?"

"Of course."

"I thought my aunt's description was exaggerated, but it wasn't half way descriptive. You really do like to have books around you."

"Besides puttering in the yard and reading books, I haven't had anything to do for several years."

"Have you read them all?"

He shakes his head as he answers, "No. Some are from my past life and I don't like to get rid of books. Some are strictly for research or looking things up when I'm curious about something. I'm guessing about seventy percent were purchased for pleasure reading and I've read maybe eighty percent of those. Well, sit down and dig in. I hope you don't mind just pizza. It only crossed my mind a little while ago that you might like a salad with your pizza, but I didn't think there was enough time to go digging in the garden."

"Pizza by itself is fine." She picks up the slice of pizza from her plate and notices that it looks a lot better than the typical grocery store frozen pizza which is what she assumed he had and is much thicker with more ingredients. She takes a bite and slowly chews. After she briefly looks at the pizza in surprise, she looks at him, looks back at the pizza, takes another bite, and slowly chews it. She savors the flavor then proclaims, "This is really good."

"I'm glad you like it."

"Where do you get it?"

"I have the local baker make up the dough for a couple of dozen pizzas at a time. Then I do up the ingredients, put them together, and freeze them."

Sharlene looks at him in surprise then asks, "You made it?"

"In a way. I think the key is lots of ingredients which anyone can do and the dough. I tried doing the dough, but I messed it up most of the time and don't particularly like to knead bread. That's why I have the local baker do it."

"Do you have the recipe for the dough?"

"Yeah. It's one my ex-wife found and used before she started to use alternate flours. She tried to adjust the recipe to work with alternate flours, but it was never quite right."

She takes another bite and savors it, "This is certainly right. I don't think I've tasted a better pizza."

"I like it too, but a lot of people prefer a thinner crust and a smaller variety of ingredients."

"You're right. I would like to make this some time for Mariam. I think she would really go for it. Do you need to freeze the dough?"

"No, you can make it fresh, you just have to adjust the baking time. I don't remember what the difference is, but it's on the recipe."

When she's only about halfway through her second slice, she remarks, "Wow, this is filling, but it sure tastes good."

"I think so. It's also easy to re-warm as leftovers and still tastes good. Between the heavier bread crust and more than double the ingredients, it does tend to be rather filling."

"Have you thought about trying to start a pizza place?"

He shakes his head and explains, "Not other than as a fleeting thought. I wouldn't want to be tied down like that and it would have to be in a real high class place in order to charge enough to cover the cost of making it. To make this pizza costs quite a bit more than what I can buy one in the store not on sale. The only place it would sell would be where people have a lot of disposable income and are willing to pay more for a nicer pizza. People like that wouldn't want to take the leftovers home with them, so a lot of good food would get thrown away. I wouldn't want to be a party to that."

"You make some good points. I'll gladly save the rest of mine for leftovers. Can I get the recipe?"

"Sure. Relax a bit and I'll go print out a copy for you."

"Can I follow along?"

"Of course. My home is your home. I want you to feel comfortable here. Maybe I'd better clean up here first because once we're back in the library, I may forget about this."

A couple of minutes later, after they clean up dinner, she follows him into the library where he turns in the opposite direction from what she had gone earlier and in the corner is a desk on one side and a computer setup on the other, or rather two computers. He sits down on a wheeled armless chair, turns on the more modern of the two computers, makes a few clicks and moves with the input device, and she soon hears the printer start.

She asks, "What's the other computer for?"

"That's for some older games which won't work with the newer systems." He hands her the recipe he printed out.

"If I wanted to check my email using my computer, would I need to unplug your system?"

"No. If the plug-ins haven't changed in the last few years, there's a jack in each of the bedrooms as well as the front room and dining room which you can use, or, just a second." He opens a drawer, takes out a power and a data cable, crawls under the computer table, a moment later he's pushing the ends of the cables through a hole in the back of the computer table, and asks, "Can you grab these?" She does, he crawls back out, takes the cables from her, pulls them further out of the hole and twist ties them to a connected power cable to keep them from sliding back down the hole. "Hopefully that will work for you if you want to get online from here." He sits back down on his chair.

"You really didn't need to do all of that. I could have used one of the other jacks."

"It was no trouble and it gives you more choices."

"Freedom and choices are important to you."

He nods his head as he responds, "I'm afraid so. For many years, I had little freedom and few choices, as much from economics as from an incompatible marriage, in spite of what's claimed about the politics of the sector. Usually freedom and choices have more to do with economics than politics. A person may be politically free, but if he can't afford to act on that freedom, he's little better off than a slave. In some ways, he's worse off than a slave, because intellectually he knows he should be free, but is unable to act on it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get on my soapbox."

"That's quite all right. I'm interested in your political views. It gives me a better understanding of who you are. And sometimes it gives me something to think about that I hadn't considered before. Even though I don't understand all of the ins and outs of an issue, most of what you say makes good sense."

* * * * *

2147-08-30 (e2)

George suggests, "If we're going to talk, I ought to bring that chair over here for you to sit down."

Sharlene looks at the large chair he points to which is next to the end of the desk then says, "No, I think I'll sit here," as she straddles his legs and sits down on his thighs.

"Um, I'm not sure how much talking I'm inclined to do with you sitting here."

She hugs him and pulls herself up his legs to be snugly close to him, whispers, "Call it nonverbal communication," and kisses him.

When his breathing has settled and while he keeps his left arm behind her to hold her close, he wheels the chair closer to his desk, rummages in a drawer, and, a moment later, he hands her a key and explains, "More choice. . . . And demonstration . . . my home is your home. . . . It works for all external doors."

She looks at him, looks at the key, looks back at him, "Thank you, George," opens the top two buttons of her shirt, slips the key in, presumably under her bra strap, takes his head in her hands, and thoroughly kisses him. While she gives him an opportunity to catch his breath, he hugs her tight and rests his chin on her shoulder. When his breathing approaches a normal pace, he starts to kiss her neck, nuzzle her earlobe, nibble along her jaw bone, and slowly works his way from one side of her neck to the other as she hums in pleasure.

When he reaches the other side of her neck, his kisses and little tongue caresses slowly drop down her neck to partially follow her opened shirt collar. As he does, his left arm drops to the top of her hips and holds her close while his right hand slides up her back to hold the back of her head, then he pushes her upper body slightly backwards in order for him to kiss across her exposed upper chest which encourages her to moan. She raises her feet off of the floor, braces her heels on the back of his chair, spreads her legs further, and pulls herself tighter to him as she groans with the growing pleasure.

When his kisses and tongue caresses reach the other side of her upper chest, they follow her neck line down to the bottom of her opened shirt, where he kisses her for a little while before his lips follow her neckline up the other side of her chest. Instead of kissing up to her earlobe, as she expects, he reverses direction and as he slips the tip of his tongue under her shirt collar, he traces the edge of her bra to the center of her chest while the waves of pleasure build to almost more than she can contain and she deeply groans.

Before the pleasure has a chance to begin to diminish, it's building again as his tongue traces the top of the other side of her bra. More than that, his left arm is supporting the back of her hips and moving them from side to side. Even through her pants, she feels the sliding motion of her pubic area over his lower abdomen and while she bites her lip to enjoy it a little longer, a little longer, a little longer, her verbal cry of pleasure echoes his nonverbal cry when they reach the top of the mountain of pleasure together. As she relaxes, he pulls her back up into a sitting position, locks his arms behind her, and slumps on her.

When she recovers her breath first, she expresses herself, "Thank you, George. Thank you very much."

"My . . . pleasure . . ."

"I'm glad it was your pleasure and I'm glad you received pleasure also." Just as she's thinking of unbuttoning his shirt to touch him and start the cycle of pleasure again, she realizes it's been a long day for him and he hasn't had a chance to rest since the morning. Instead of caressing his chest, she caresses his head which is leaning on her shoulder. As she intermixes her caresses with kisses, she feels him relax even further. After a few minutes, she feels him stir.

He lifts his head and says, "I'm sorry. I think I started to fall asleep."

"That's okay. You've had a long day. Do you want to go to bed?"

"That would be a wise idea. Let me check that the doors are locked. If you want to stay up later, be my guest. If you can turn out the lights when you go to bed, I would appreciate it."

"I can do that. I want to go with you to check the doors so I know how you do it and to make sure you get to the bedroom okay."

"Thank you."

As they check the doors, she sees that they're all standard locks with the addition of a bar across the sliding glass door out of the dining room. As they step into his bedroom, she asks, "Are you going to need help getting ready for bed?"

"I think I can manage it. You're a wonderful woman, Sharlene. Thank you for being in my life and for letting me be in yours."

"You're a kind and generous man, George Greyson. It's my privilege to share my life with you and to be a part of yours. Sweet dreams, old man."

"With you, always," and he kisses her.

Reluctantly, she steps back, turns, and goes to the guest bedroom. When she hears what sounds like him closing his bathroom door, she gets a clean panty, goes to the guest bathroom, cautiously washes up, changes her panty, takes the other, and puts it in a plastic bag in her luggage which she uses for dirty laundry. When she hears him come out of the bathroom, she steps into his bedroom doorway. His initial startled look soon turns into a warm smile.

She steps closer as she says, "I just want to make sure you were doing okay before I go back down to the library."

"I think I'm more tired than weak."

"Shall I tuck you in?"

He displays a big toothless grin and declares, "If I ever refuse that kind of an offer, call the nut house."

"Oh, you. Get in bed." After she lets him get settled, her tucking him in is more symbolic than actual. "Pucker up, old man," she requests as she leans over and proceeds to kiss him breathless. With his left hand behind her head, he gives as good as he gets, he just doesn't last as long.

"Thank . . . light?"

"You're welcome, George. Yes, I'll turn out the light. Shall I close the door?"

"Please."

She turns out the light and closes his bedroom door, but she doesn't latch it. As she walks down the hall to the library, she detours to run her hands over the piano and resists the temptation to play it so he can sleep then she goes back to the library and loses herself for a couple of hours looking at the collection of books he has. After she goes to the bathroom to relieve her screaming bladder, she goes back to his library. Another hour of looking at his books has her examining the books near his desk.

As she heads back towards the door, the next short aisle has a recliner nestled between the book cases. She sits down and can imagine him sitting here for hours reading these very books. Several have bookmarks in various places. There's a coaster where he sets his drink next to a jar of chocolate candies. When she notices a nearby switch, she turns it on and is rewarded with a reading light so he doesn't have to turn the lights on in the whole library. Yes, this is the George who her aunt described. But it's not quite the George who she's come to care for, desire, love, . . . she's not sure which word is most appropriate.

Sharlene remembers when he was in the medical center and had his hands on a book and how he seemed to disappear into it. Yet, when he was at her house, about the only time he opened a book was when he was resting. Otherwise, he seemed to enjoy being with her, practicing tai-chi, talking, watching television, and, oh, yes, hugging, kissing, and touching, especially those three. He really has a capacity for physical affection which seems to be limited only by his stamina and breathing capacity. It kind of makes sense for her capacity to be high since it's all new and fresh. Well, maybe it's similar with him since it was buried for so long, maybe it does seem all new and fresh to him also.

When she notices the time, she decides she ought to go to bed also and turns out the reading light. As she slowly goes through the rest of the house, she looks each room over before she turns out the light then looks back to make sure she didn't miss a light and when she's done, she gets ready for bed. As she stands at the end of the hall in her pajamas, she looks back and forth between his bedroom and the guest bedroom several times. She finally decides she needs to at least try to sleep by herself after one and a half weeks of sleeping with him. Was it really only that long? It seems comfortably much longer than that.

She turns out the light and gets into bed. A couple of moments later, she feels the anxiety which she had been holding in for the last couple of days, since she didn't know what his house would be like, melt away. So much about his house is just what she would want in a home, even the roominess and sparse decor. Well, she never would have figured on such an extensive library, but it fits in just right. Most people couldn't imagine a female wanting a home like this. Even though she's only being here for a few hours, it fits her. Maybe after a few days or a few visits she'll find things she would prefer to be different. Time will tell. Soon her thoughts drift off and she falls into a deep dreamless sleep.

* * * * *

2147-08-31 (m1)

As she wakes up, Sharlene is suddenly aware she's in a strange bed, so she cautiously opens her eyes and realizes it's also a strange bedroom. She slowly looks around and when she sees boxes along the wall, she answers herself, "George's, I'm at George's." She sits up then starts to chuckle at the idea that she recognizes being at his house by seeing boxes of foreign labeled lingerie in the room. A boring old man with boxes of lingerie, Mariam wouldn't know what to make of that. Before Mariam had met him, she would have made a lot of it, but since she's met him, she wouldn't know what to think.

After she goes to the bathroom, she cautiously goes into his bedroom and over to his side of the bed and watches him sleep for a little while. She decides to let him sleep so she goes to the front room and measures off the empty space. She compares it with the space in the empty guest bedroom and decides to do a light tai-chi workout there since the walls more clearly define the usable space.

Once her workout is complete, she goes to the kitchen, notices the kettle is already on the stove, adds some water, and turns it on. She wonders where the tea and the cups are so she first looks where she remembers the glasses are and finds no tea cups, but there are mugs even though she has to stretch to reach one. As she thinks about where she might be inclined to put the tea, she opens a cupboard, it's not there, but it's in the next cupboard over. While the tea is steeping, she goes to the guest bedroom and gets her computer.

As she looks around the dining room, she soon finds the data jack right next to an electrical outlet. While her computer boots up, she finds a spoon and the sugar and soon has her tea fixed. After she takes her tea to the table, she checks her email and finds nothing of importance, then brings up the database to download her emotional recording device. She verifies that the transfer is complete then erases the recordings from the mini-drive and puts it back into her headband. As the software reviews the data, it seems there are more hits than she expects. She carefully reviews the recordings and checks the date and time stamps and makes notes of what was happening with each one to the best of her memory.

There are still two which she can't place. Then it dawns on her that one of the times she saw was in the early morning instead of the early afternoon as her mind had apparently assumed and translated. With nothing else to go on, she labels it as a probable dream. The last one was just a few hours ago, in fact, just before dinner, but it isn't the typical, at least for her so far, intimate pleasure. . . . The library! That was when she first went into the library.

She compares it to the 'contentment' recording from that sixth-day when she first kissed George and finds that it's similar, but not the same. As she thinks about how she felt, she tentatively labels it as 'wonder' and briefly describes the situation. After all of the hits are described, she compares them to her previous downloads and sees that they're still strong and clean and according to the statistics, some are even longer. And the one last night, it clearly shows the peak of pleasure she experienced.

As she reaches for her tea, she's surprised to feel a jolt of pleasure from one of her breasts. She looks down and sees how the fabric of her pajama top had slid across one of her erect nipples. She moves her hand away from the tea mug and begins to experiment with sliding the fabric across one or both of her nipples in various directions. Then she caresses her breasts and teases her taunt nipples through her pajama top with her fingers while she moans in pleasure. After awhile, she unbuttons her pajama top to touch her breasts and nipples directly with her hands.

It seems as though she's unable to stop herself as she spreads her legs and caresses her pubic area through her pajama bottom with the flat of her left hand as she groans while her right hand continues to fondle her breasts. As the pleasure continues to grow, the flat of her left hand transitions to her middle finger pressing her pajama bottom between her labia while her index and ring fingers move to the outsides of her vulva in order to slightly increase the pleasurable friction which her middle finger is causing. Barely in time, she jams the wrist of her right hand into her mouth to muffle the cry of climactic pleasure which surges out of her. With difficulty and reluctance, she pulls her left hand away from between her legs.

She holds her left hand up in front of her face and asks it, "Why can't you be George's hand? Not only does that old man get me all excited, even the memory of being excited is exciting. I haven't even been here twenty four hours and already I'm so comfortable I'm wandering around in only my pajamas. Very seldom did I ever do that in my own home."

Since her pajamas are briefly at the forefront of her thoughts, she realizes they don't feel right. She looks down and exclaims, "Oh, my!" as she sees that her pajama top is completely unbuttoned. As she starts to button it up, she's half tempted not to, but she continues to do so. George has been so generous and so patient and so very resisting of his own desires, it would be rather inconsiderate of her to tempt him so much.

As she starts to stand up, a wave of pleasure from her pubic area causes her to quickly sit. She looks down again and sees that her pajama bottom is damp, just like her panties have been so many times and the fabric of her pajama bottom is still between her labia. While she's almost afraid to touch herself and get excited again, she grits her teeth and quickly pulls the fabric out and almost knocks her head on the table as the pleasure surges through her again. She sits still and tries to calm down even while she thinks again about how lucky she is to have George as a partner on this journey.

She slowly gets up, with a sigh of relief that another wave of pleasure hasn't excited her all over again, and quickly drinks her tea. For the present, she leaves her computer on the table, walks down the hall to the guest bedroom, picks out some clothes, goes to the bathroom to very carefully wash up, and gets dressed in a short sleeve shirt and a just longer than knee length full skirt. She checks on George again and recognizes that he's still asleep.

Back in the kitchen, she looks in the fridge, sees nothing which will give her a quick shot of energy, starts the kettle again and writes 'orange juice' on his grocery list. Once the kettle is hot, she starts another mug of tea steeping. She walks over to the dining room table, shuts down her computer, unplugs it, takes it to the guest bedroom, and puts it away. When she checks the time, she decides to wake George up, but before she does, she fixes her mug of tea, this time with double the sugar, looks in the freezer, pulls out an ice cube, stirs it into her tea, and drinks it in a few spaced swallows.

She rinses out her mug, leaves it beside the stove to use again, goes down the hall to his bedroom, slips in the door, goes over to his side of the bed, and looks at him for a minute or so. As she leans over, she starts to kiss him awake. In a little while, she feels the back of his right hand slide along the front and outside of her right knee. She encourages him, "Mmm, that's nice, George", and soon he slides his hand up a little ways along the front and outside of her thigh. A few moments later, she asks, "What about my other leg?"

"I can't reach it from here."

Since she excitingly remembers a very similar situation from a few days ago, she gets on the bed with high anticipation, puts her knees on either side of him to straddle his body, and leans over him. As her hair forms a curtain along the sides of their faces, he reaches up, caresses her face, and finger combs her hair. In a little while, he gently pulls on her hair, moves her face to his, and kisses her.

He releases her hair to move his hands to her legs where he slips them under her skirt hem and caresses both of her legs along the fronts, the outsides, slightly around to the backs of her legs, and back around to the fronts which causes her to briefly break the kiss to moan in response to her growing excitement. With each front to back movement, he goes a little higher along the length of her legs until he gets to about the middle of her thighs. She breaks the renewed kiss, drops her forehead to his shoulder, and proclaims, "Ohhh, George," between deep breaths.

While she's trying to catch her breath, he continues with the front to back movement of his caressing hands, this time his hands go down the length of her legs a little at a time until he reaches her knees. He stretches his fingers in order to caress the upper portion of the outsides of her calves. In a moment, she realizes he can't reach any further and just as she did a few days ago, she pulls her knees up a few inches along the bed. He caresses the backs of her calves and up behind her knees. As he slips his hands around to the fronts of her knees and slowly caresses up the fronts of her thighs to about the middle of their length and then back down, she begins to kiss him more passionately.

He continues the slow up and down movement of his hands, moving away from the fronts of her legs just a fraction of an inch at a time. After several up and down movements of his hands, she breaks the kiss to groan then breathes heavily as she drops her forehead to his shoulder while she enjoys more caresses as his hands move up and down the bare skin of her legs under her skirt. As the movements of his hands edge past the outsides of her legs and towards the backs of her legs, he starts to vary the caresses, sometimes his hands go up together, sometimes one is going up while the other is going down, but always a fraction of an inch more towards the backs of her legs.

As his hands slowly slide up the full backs of her legs, she feels like they're going to keep on going up and her pleasure with them as she groans even louder. Once again, he slowly slides his hands up the backs of her legs and slowly back down again. Just a finger width in towards the insides of her legs, his hands slide even more slowly up, up, up, to the middle of her thighs. As his hands move back and forth at about the middle of her thighs, she has to do something with the high pleasure so she moves one of her hands to briefly rub her skirt over her vulva and lifts her head to cry out in climax then moves her hand to support herself as she drops her head back to his shoulder while she pants for breath.

When he realizes that his full bladder has interfered with his own release, he gently rolls her off of him, stumbles to the bathroom, and empties his bladder. After a little while, he decides he's not so desperate for a release that he can't wait for awhile and see if she's going to get excited again. Even if he's not inside of her, he's discovered that his release is more pleasurable when it occurs at the same time as her own.

* * * * *

2147-08-31 (m2)

As George steps back into the bedroom, he's surprised she's still on the bed and curled up.

When she hears the bathroom door open, Sharlene opens her eyes, quickly opens her arms, and requests, "Come here, please." Since he's unable to resist her invitation, he sits down on the side of the bed in front of her. She scoots closer so her body is partially wrapped around his back, lays her head on his thigh, looks up at him, and says, "Thank you for touching me and giving me pleasure.

"Before you say it was your pleasure, I want you to know that sometimes just the memory of your touching is so exciting, I barely have to touch myself to feel the pleasure. Of course, I would prefer to have you directly touching me and exciting me. That way I know you're directly involved and a part of the pleasure. I'm still trying to figure out how to please you a little more directly, but I get so wrapped up in my own pleasure, I don't think about pleasing you."

He turns his head away then says, "You don't have to."

"You mean you were so excited pleasing me that you had a sexual release? Just like last night and a couple of other times."

"Well, not quite this time. If my bladder wasn't so distracting, I certainly would have."

"George, please look at me. You're an absolute wonder. I keep wanting more pleasure, you keep giving me more pleasure and I barely give a thought and no action to pleasing you. You keep saying you don't deserve me. The truth is that I don't deserve you."

She puts her hand on his month and requests, "Please don't interrupt. I don't deserve to selfishly keep enjoying intimate pleasure in such a safe environment. I've heard what my aunt and Mariam have said. If I had been with any other man, I would have been raped, multiple times by now. I would have spent the rest of my life in conflict of wanting, yet fearing intimate pleasure. With you I'm comfortable. With you I feel safe. With you I want intimate pleasure. I don't fear it."

"Sharlene, I derive so much pleasure from touching you, I'm afraid if you tried to directly please me, I couldn't control myself and would push you beyond what you're ready for."

"I'm not sure you can push me beyond what I want. No matter how you've touched me, I've wanted it and more, much more."

"Then if I'm not pushing you, I must be frustrating you."

"Oh, George, please don't feel that way. Forgive me for wanting to go further faster. I really do want to walk this journey with you. I want to enjoy every step of the way. I don't want to miss anything you want to show me."

She briefly pauses then continues, "You said you may have to step away to control yourself. Mariam warned me that I might have to step away and touch myself. As you've so thoroughly excited me, I have had to touch myself and will continue to do so in order to try to keep my own desires partially under control, because I really want to walk this journey with you, every little step of the way. Maybe I'm the equivalent of a horny teenager, because I've been so excited with you touching me, even just remembering you touching me gets me excited. George, how can I help please you? I don't want this to be a one sided journey."

"I'm obviously enjoying intimate pleasure just by touching you and seeing you enjoy intimate pleasure. Allowing me to be with you, to touch you, to bring you pleasure is more than I could have ever dreamed was possible. I . . . I . . . I don't know what more I can say."

As she pulls herself around from behind him, she almost crawls up him, pushes him back onto the bed, lays on him, and requests, "Don't say, kiss." While he caresses her hair and the back of her head with one hand and her back with his other, her kiss becomes more passionate and her body begins to squirm. Soon, he feels himself begin to harden again. As she breaks the kiss to breathe heavily, he begins to kiss her ear and the side of her neck which causes her to moan. Even as he continues to caress her back, his hand pulls up the bottom of her shirt then slips under it to caress her bare skin.

As his kisses move to under her chin and back along her neck, her moans turn into groans. She supports herself on her right arm then the squirms of her body become more urgent as she slips her left hand under the waist band of her skirt and between her legs and touches herself through her panty at the same time as his hand slides up her back and slips under the back of her bra strap. As she cries out with her climax, he tightens his grip on her and shudders. For a moment, they're locked in the peak of sexual tension then he relaxes onto the bed as she slumps on top of him. For the next undefined period of time, they both just lay there as they try to catch their breath.

"Thank you. . . . Lady, . . . you're . . . something . . . else."

"What . . . do you . . . mean?"

"So . . . excite . . . ing."

"You mean you . . .?"

"Yes."

"Oh, my"

A few moments pass in quiet.

He assures her, "Don't worry about it being . . . a one-sided journey. . . . It's obviously not."

"But I'm being selfish. I'm not thinking of your pleasure."

"It's all new to you. . . . Hard to think of someone else . . . when you don't know . . . what's happening to you."

"I guess."

"I'm being selfish. . . . I selfishly want to be with you. . . . I selfishly want to please you. . . . With you, I'm a new man."

"Oh, George." As she caresses one side of his face with her hand, she gently kisses the other side of his face and neck which allows him to fully catch his breath. As his breathing settles, he falls asleep.

She thinks to herself, "What a quandary. If I keep wearing him out, he'll never recover. He keeps giving and giving and never asks for anything other than the opportunity to keep giving. Yet if I'm to believe his words and his actions, he's enjoying himself. Maybe he is being selfish in a way. The more he pleases me, the more pleasure he enjoys. Sexual release for a man involves semen, but I don't recall that the medical texts were clear about how much or what it's like. Would it vary from man to man? I don't know."

As she looks at his pajama bottom, she continues her thoughts, "I don't think I can wash him up without his cooperation and I don't think he's ready for that yet. I'd better get some food in him otherwise he won't have the strength to do anything." Before she follows through on that thought, Sharlene goes to the guest bedroom, gets a panty, and carefully washes up in the bathroom, again. She puts her things away, goes to the kitchen, and after a brief search, she finds the necessary ingredients and fixes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, pours a glass of iced tea, and carries them back to the bedroom. She gently caresses his face as she tells him, "George, it's time to wake up."

"Mmm, hello angel."

"Hello, hero."

"Uh, what happened?"

"I'm afraid I got you excited and wore you out."

"Oh. Oh!! I need to wash up."

"You need to eat and drink first or you won't have the energy to wash up. The other choice is to let me help you wash up."

He swallows nervously then says, "I . . . I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet."

"Then let's sit you up so you can eat and drink. Take it slowly. . . . Since you finished the sandwich and drink, why don't you get washed up and we'll get you some more to eat. You used up a lot of energy this morning. Are you going to need some help washing?"

"Um, I think I can do it myself."

"George, there will come a day when I want to get into your pants for selfish reasons, but right now, I'm only thinking of your energy level and I don't want you to collapse from a lack of energy or strength and hurt yourself."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to attribute inappropriate motives to you. In the hospital when I received care, especially of an intimate nature, I could rationalize it away as though I was just another slab of meat it was their job to take care of. But here? I'm sorry, Sharlene, I can't rationalize you away as one more nurse just doing her job."

"Interesting. I hadn't thought about it from that perspective. I guess it could be difficult to see me in two substantially different roles within minutes of one another. Okay, I'll leave you to wash yourself and go fix something else to eat. If I don't hear from you or see you in a few minutes, I'll be back to check on you."

"Okay. Thank you. I really appreciate you taking care of me. I don't know how I can every repay you."

"George, I'm the one in your debt. You've opened my life to the world of intimate pleasure which I didn't know existed a few short weeks ago. Now kiss me quick and send me away before I demonstrate how much I want to step back into that new world." He does.

A few moments later, he steps into the bathroom, washes up, and gets dressed. He shakes his head not only at her excitability, but what's even more amazing is that she wants him involved. Even as his mind slowly begins to come to terms with the idea that Sharlene, the most wonderful beautiful person, could want him of all people, it still stuns him. The idea is absolutely mind boggling.

* * * * *

2147-08-31 (m3)

George slowly walks down the hall and as he turns into the kitchen, he sees that Sharlene is looking around with a concentrated frown. He asks, "What's the matter, love?"

"I'm sorry. I wanted to have something fixed for you, but we're either out of the ingredients or I don't know where things are."

He steps over to the dining room table, turns one of the chairs outward, sits down, opens his arms, and requests, "Come here, lovely lady." Swiftly, she's sitting on his upper legs, in his arms, and cuddled close to him. "I really don't expect you to fix a meal in a strange kitchen. Was there something you thought about which might be easy to fix and help restore our energy?"

"At first I thought of eggs, but we're out of them. Then I thought of egg batter fried bread, but that needs eggs and milk. Then . . ." his finger across her lips stops her.

As he lightly bounces the end of his index finger off of the tip of her nose, he assures her, "Not to worry, little lady, we can still have egg batter fried bread. I have some in the freezer, unless the gremlins snuck in while I was gone and took them. Now, what would you like to have on your egg batter fried bread?"

"I liked your peanut butter and syrup combination."

"Considering the sandwich I had a few minutes ago, you found the peanut butter. If it's getting low, there should be some more in the panty. The syrup should be on the door of the fridge. Shall I chase you off of my lap and help you put it all together?"

"No, my knight in shining armor who has just rescued a maiden in distress," she gives him a good long kiss, "you sit there, rest, catch your breath, and direct the operation. Let me start with the things I think I can find and when you can talk a little more easily, then I'll ask for whatever I haven't found yet."

Since she either already knows or makes some good guesses, she soon finds everything she needs except for the egg batter fried bread. She looks in the freezer and after a quick scan, she finds a neatly labeled container of egg batter fried bread.

She turns to him and says, "I think I have everything. What toaster setting do you use for it?"

"Usually I put a couple of slices in at the '3' setting to defrost them. When they pop, I pull them out and set them on a plate for roughly a minute for their temperature to more or less equalize. Then I pop them back in the toaster at the '5' setting to warm them up."

"Let me give that a whirl. Would you like some hot tea with breakfast?"

"Yes, please. Were you able to find the tea bags?"

"Yes, they were just one cupboard over from my first guess. However, reaching a mug was a bit of a stretch."

"Then after breakfast, I'll rearrange the cupboard to lower the mugs."

She turns to look at him in amazement then says, "You don't have to rearrange your kitchen on my behalf."

"If it makes things easier for you or helps you to feel more comfortable here, I'll gladly do it. Young lady, you've given me new life, quite literally and in every other way. Moving a few mugs and glasses around is the very least I can do for you."

She quickly sets down whatever is in her hands, goes to him, sits on his upper legs, turns to hug him tight, and kisses him soundly. As she lets him breathe, she tells him, "You wonderful generous man," then hugs him tighter and for a long time. When one of their intestines rumbles, she jerks 'back to reality' and exclaims, "Oh, George. I'm sorry. I forget all about breakfast."

As she starts to get up, she's surprised he doesn't immediately release her from his hug. When she gives him a puzzled look, he gently smiles at her and says, "Calmness, my lady. I think I've just had my breakfast and the food on the counter isn't going anywhere."

She's momentarily startled by his statement then soon relaxes onto him and tells him, "Oh, George. Thank you." A little later, she sits up and says, "Okay, I'm calmer now. You may think my hugs and kisses are your breakfast, but you still need calories or you won't have the energy to respond to my hugs and kisses. And I have no intention of missing out on your hugs and kisses, whether they're in response to mine, or especially when you initiate them."

He releases her with a quick kiss then tells her, "Yes, my lady."

In short order, she has the food on the table and their hunger quickly pushes everything else aside, at least for a few minutes.

He briefly looks at his empty plate then remarks, "That's strange."

"What's strange?"

"That tasted so much better than it usually does since your fingers touched it."

"Now I know you're exaggerating."

"Ah, but taste is a subjective experience, and my taste is very subjective," as he picks up her left hand and kisses and nibbles her fingertips then proclaims, "Yep, that's what made the difference. No question about it."

"I caught you, old man. I didn't touch the egg batter fried bread with the fingers on my left hand. Only the fingers on my right hand," as she holds up her right hand and wiggles her fingers.

"Are you saying the fingers of one of your hands taste different than the fingers of your other hand?" He gets out of his chair while he continues to hold onto her left hand, steps behind her chair, takes her right hand, and begins to kiss and nibble those fingertips. With an exaggerated, "Humm," he alternates between her hands as he kisses and nibbles the fingertips of one and then the other. His kisses spread to the heels of her thumbs, the insides of her wrists, even an occasional tongue caress across her palm then he says, "This calls for further investigation." As he leans over, he begins to nibble and kiss the top of her ears, one then the other, then down her ears to her earlobes while her hums of enjoyment turn into moans of excitement while she pulls his arms around her to hug her across her upper abdomen.

As his kisses, nibbles, and light tongue caresses descend to her neck, she pulls his arms tightly to her and up to just below her bra level. When he moves his lips around the back of her to the other side of her neck, his concentration is on his kisses so she moves his arms up a little higher to across her bra and is disappointed she barely feels the pressure of his arms. It dawns on her a moment later that her padded bra is in the way.

Since she doesn't want to start doing more to make him aware that he's theoretically 'touching her breasts', she pulls his arms down and when he next changes sides of her neck to kiss, she pulls up the bottom of her shirt, so his hands are on her bare skin. As she leans back with moans, she relaxes into the pleasure of his kisses and his hands caressing her skin. While her pleasure slowly builds, her hums and moans occasionally deepen to groans.

Just before she's about to push his hands either lower or higher along her bare skin, he pulls away and slowly straightens up with his own groan, which isn't of pleasure. When she senses that he's holding onto the back of her chair for support, she carefully gets up, keeps weight on the seat of the chair so it doesn't fall over, and asks him, "What's the matter?"

With a warm smile which shows only a hint of the pain he's probably feeling, he keeps his left hand firmly on the back of the chair while he reaches up to caress her face with his right hand. A moment later, he explains, "I'm just being a fool of an old man. My muscles aren't used to being in some positions for very long. Mmm, but you're so addictive, young lady. And don't you dare suggest I go to some program to learn to control my addiction. I plan to wallow in it for as long as you can put up with me."

"That puts me in a bit of a quandary, old man. The idea that you're addicted to me and how you demonstrate it sends shivers of delight through me. But at the same time, I don't want you to hurt yourself. We can't very well share pleasure if you're in pain. Where does it hurt the most?"

"The lower back." Sharlene carefully gets off of the chair and when she starts to gently probe his lower back, he suggests, "I'm sorry, lady, but you'll need to press harder than that."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Come on, Doc, you know it's going to take some painful pressure to loosen the muscles. A little pain up front gives more relief afterwards, with muscles anyway, I can't say that about life."

"You're right. Well, prepare yourself."

"Go for it."

With her left arm across his upper abdomen for support, she firmly probes with her right hand and when she finds a tight muscle, she digs into it with a stiff knuckle. In a few minutes, accompanied by various grunts, groans, and occasional 'ow's' from him, she's loosened up his tightest muscles.

"Thank you, Sharlene, that's much better."

"You know you still have a lot of tight muscles."

"That's pretty normal. I appreciate you taking care of those painful ones." He experimentally moves his back and arms and proclaims, "That's much better. Thank you, sweetness." A moment later, he turns to her, hugs her, and kisses her. To help him resist the temptation to extend his touching of her, he steps back and starts to clear the table and clean up after breakfast. A little later he asks, "Other than dinner tonight with Paula and Paul and maybe some grocery shopping, is there anything you wanted to do today?"

She shakes her head then verbally answers, "Nothing specific. Have you made any plans of what you want to do?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on how long you or we stay."

"Why did you say 'you or we'?"

"To put it simply, if you don't want me underfoot when you need to go back to the city while you try to organize and start your company, then I'll stay here. I don't want to be in your way or impose on you."

"George, don't you want to be with me?"

"Lovely lady, I want nothing more than to be with you. But I don't want to impose, distract, or anything else which will get in your way of doing what you need to do."

Sharlene steps up close to him, grabs his pants belt at each hip, pulls him close to her, looks up at him, and tells him, "Let me be perfectly clear, old man, I want you with me. Period. I don't care if I'm starting a new company. I want you with me. No if's, and's, but's, maybe's, or anything else. Understand?"

"Yes, my love." He leans over to kiss her forehead then pulls her into his embrace and tells her, "You are truly a treasure," and he hugs her for a long time.

* * * * *

2147-08-31 (m4>a1)

After a while, George asks, "Did you have an idea of when we might go back to the city?"

Sharlene briefly thinks about it before she answers, "I was thinking next first-day. I'm not sure why, but I kind of want to be there when the Institute puts the Project on the market on the second. Between now and then, I want to spend time with you. Since I have the piano to play, boxes of lingerie to look through, a library of books to browse, and Molly to play with, I have more than enough to keep me busy when you're resting. Did you have any plans?"

He shakes his head as he answers, "Nothing on a time scale. I ought to go through my mail, pay my bills, buy some groceries, cut the grass, and check the garden over, none of which will individually take very long. Other than that, my time is yours."

"I guess the most time sensitive of the bunch would be to buy groceries, unless you had some urgent bills which need to be paid."

"I don't think I do. I would prefer to deal with the mail and bills when I'm a little lower on physical energy. My suggestion would be to do the grocery shopping soon since the store is generally less crowded on a first-day morning. On the way back, we can stop by Paula's for the milk and eggs. She has a local source which I trust more than the sector wide suppliers. My guess is by then it might be about time for lunch. We can rest or do quiet things in the afternoon and then go to Paula and Paul's for dinner."

"That sounds like a good plan."

"Did you plan on fixing the dinner?"

"Yes. We agreed on spaghetti. I hope that's okay with you."

"Of course."

"They like it, it's easy to fix, and when I make a big batch, they have easy to reheat leftovers. It also gives Uncle Paul an excuse to have a glass of wine. I'd better get sourdough bread on the grocery list."

He reluctantly releases her to do so.

"You'd better look over this list to see if there's anything else you need."

After he checks the list and looks in a couple of cupboards, the fridge, and the pantry, he adds a couple of items then explains, "We won't need much for the rest of the week. We probably ought to invite Paula and Paul here for a dinner or two or do you think they would appreciate going to a restaurant for a meal? I don't know how else to thank them for all they've done for me."

"George, they don't want you to try to thank them. Just keep being their friend like you've been for years. Would you feel comfortable going to a fancy restaurant?"

"Uh, no."

"Then don't offer to take them. They would probably enjoy it more if you went to their place and grilled some chicken or steaks and sat around on their back porch talking about nothing or even not talking."

"In that case, let's try to remember to ask them when would be a good time to do that. If I can remember a couple of days before, I'll go to the local butcher and get a fresh chicken or two and marinate them."

"Is there anything else to do before we go?"

"Shoes and a bathroom trip."

"George, are you always practical?"

"Not hardly. It's a lot of hard work for me to keep my head out of the clouds with you around."

"I prefer to have you around me," she slips into his arms.

"Mmm. I sure like you here," he caresses her back. A few moments later, he hugs her snugly and slightly lifts her off of her feet. "I might be difficult to walk around the store like this, but I can't imagine trying to drive there."

She chuckles at the mental image then asks, "What about the scandalous looks of the little old ladies?"

"We have to be careful with those so-called little old ladies. Those old flames of mine would have apoplexy at seeing me with a pretty little lady like you."

"Oh? And how many old flames are you talking about?"

"Um, about . . . no, not her, . . . uh . . . if you don't want a negative number, I'd better add in my imaginary ones."

"You silly old man, go get your shoes on."

* * * * *

It's about time for lunch when they return to his house and put the groceries away. A couple of cold cut sandwiches eaten on the back porch easily provide their meal. After they finish eating, they watch Molly happily chew on the bone George had picked up for her. When they go back into the house, George tackles his mail and pays his bills, while Sharlene decides to go on a treasure hunt through a box of lingerie.

Once he's finished with his chore, he feels tired and as he's on the way to his bedroom, he pokes his head into the empty guest bedroom and asks her, "Hello lovely, did you find anything interesting?"

"I don't know. Shall I model some so you can tell me if what I've found is interesting?"

"I . . . I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet. When I think I can control myself, I would most definitely love to see you model whatever you like."

"Would you get excited if you saw me wear this?" She holds up a skimpy lace bra and panty set.

"Sharlene, I get excited seeing you in pants and a long sleeve shirt. For me to see your beautiful body barely covered in something like that? I don't even dare think about it now."

She sets it down and gets up to hug him as she says, "I can understand you would like to see my bare skin, but is there something else about wearing something like that which increases the enticement factor."

"Remember what I said about certain movements drawing the attention of the eyes?"

"Yes."

"The same goes for little bits of fabric like that. They draw the attention of the observer to what they're barely covering. Then the mind-set is like, 'Ooh, look at this beautiful present, let's see what's under the wrapping'. And hopefully the woman wearing it did so intentionally to get that response, otherwise someone is going to be hurt, her by being forced or him by being disappointed. I don't intend to suggest that his disappointment is anywhere near as serious as her being forced. I just want people to be aware of what they're doing and what the possible consequences might be."

"Including me?"

He nods his head as he answers, "Especially including you, because I absolutely do not want to hurt you or have you hurt by someone else. I don't know at what point I might lose control and that's part of why I want to go slow. I really don't want to know after the fact where my limit was and have you hurt in the process."

"Thank you, George. I appreciate the control you've already shown as well as telling me about how my movements or my dressing might affect you."

"I very much look forward to when I can enjoy being excited at seeing you model whatever you want, or nothing at all, without losing control. Part of the reason I become so excited so quickly these days is that I'm already imaging you in a lot of different situations. And before you ask what those situations are, I think some of them will come about quite naturally and others can be suggested by either one of us when we're at a more appropriate point in our journey."

"Do you think I'll be suggesting exciting situations?"

"You already are. Like just now when you suggested modeling that little outfit. Several times you've said you imagined me touching you. That's no different than me imaging touching you. We've probably thought of different scenarios, but we have plenty of time to try them all. If you think about the ones you've imagined, most likely they're scenarios which have a high probability of developing naturally as our touching becomes more intimate.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your treasure hunt, but I wanted to let you know I'm going to lay down for awhile. If I'm not up at least a little while before you want to leave for Paula and Paul's, holler at me. If you want to listen to music, turn the television on, play the piano, or otherwise make noise, go ahead. When I had the house built, I had extra insulation installed on the inside walls so as long as my door is closed, you would have to be making quite a bit of noise before I would hear it as something more than background noise."

"How will I bug you if you close your door?"

"I'll just latch the door, not lock it."

She tries to control her grin because she's already thinking of possibilities and asks, "So anytime I want, I can come into your bedroom?"

"Yes. I'll try to remember to change clothes in the bathroom so you won't catch me inappropriately attired."

"Ah, George, you're taking all of the fun out of me sneaking into your bedroom. What if I want to catch you inappropriately attired?"

He pauses in surprise then suggests, "Have a little patience with an old man. I'm still trying to get my head around the idea that you want me at all, much less inappropriately attired."

"Okay, as long as you don't mind me thinking ahead and maybe teasing you a little."

"I'm selfishly glad you're interested in thinking ahead. I hope I'm not misunderstanding you, but I have the impression that what you tease me about you do want to happen, but figure I'm not ready to go that far yet. If that's the case, then I have to say I appreciate your teasing, because it helps the idea that you want me be able to get through my fossilized brain cells."

"You're not misunderstanding me. George, to be honest, I've never worn anything like that bra and panty set I showed you, so I really don't know what it would feel like to wear it alone or in front of you. I'm quite sure you would be excited at seeing me in something like that and I want to excite you and be excited by you. On that basis, I would go to the other room right now, change into it, and model it for you and I'm quite sure I would enjoy your response. By the same token, I won't model if for you now, because I don't want to spoil the wonderful journey you're taking me on.

She pauses and nods her head before she continues, "Yes, I'm having dichotomous feelings of how to approach my unified feeling of wanting you and wanting to excite you almost as much as I want you to excite me. And, yes, I'm feeling somewhat selfish about the primary direction of excitement, but I also think you made a very valid point, that if we try to please each other, we'll more likely generate an upward moving spiral. I didn't mean to get long winded, but does that help explain where I'm coming from?"

"Yes, I think it does. And I very much understand the dichotomous feelings. You've certainly woken me up from what I was feeling when I finished going through my mail and paying my bills. I probably still ought to try to rest for awhile or I'll run the risk of fading out while we're visiting Paula and Paul."

"I'd better chase you off then. If I were to tuck you in, I would be half tempted to tuck myself in too. Are you sure you don't mind if I play the piano?"

"Not at all. I probably won't even hear it, but if I do, I'm sure I'll enjoy it."

"Thank you. If I decide to play it some, I'll clean up in here first."
"Don't bother. You can leave it spread out while you go through the boxes and decide what you might like to keep. I won't bother it and I have no other plans for the room. So, have fun with your treasure hunt."

After he hugs her tightly for a little while, he relaxes his hold just enough so he can lean over and kiss her before he goes to his bedroom, gently closes the door, and lays down. He tries to calm his racing thoughts which generate new imaginations of her based on what she was telling him. After a seemingly long time, he calms down enough to relax and fall asleep.

* * * * *

2147-08-31 (a2)

A couple of hours later, George wakes up to a noisy bladder. After he quiets his bladder, he steps out of the bedroom to go to the kitchen in order to get a drink and hears the piano. He gets his drink then sits on the recliner sofa so he can watch Sharlene play the piano, leans back to rest, and enjoys the music. When she stops and looks up, she's surprised to see him reclined on the sofa.

He sees her look up then suggests, "Don't stop on my account."

"Did I wake you?"

"No, my bladder gets the blame for that. I came out to get a drink and decided to stay and enjoy your music."

"Ugh. I'm so out of practice and feel so rusty."

"If that's rusty, then my playing is positively corroded. You play very well and you do it with feeling. It's nice to hear someone play the piano who enjoys the music."

"I've been meaning to ask you. I was rather surprised to see a piano here, but even more so to see a grand piano. If I had known you had a piano, I would have bet on an upright. So, why a grand? It's lovely and fits your decor very well, but it doesn't seem to fit the personality you show to the world."

He nods his head in agreement then says, "Yeah, I know. Sometimes I just sit here and look at it for awhile and am amazed that I, of all people, could actually afford one and the room to have it. Anyway, a few years ago, someone in town had an estate sale which included a book collection. If it hadn't have been for the books, I probably wouldn't have gone.

"Anyway, it seemed like no one was interested in the piano. It was somewhat banged up and most people don't have the room for one. I had been considering getting a piano, but I'd been looking for a used upright. Throughout the weekend sale, they kept lowering the price on it. I looked it over some and finally decided, why not. I thought the action was in good shape and that most of the problems were cosmetic. So I bought it and had it restored. Overall, the cost wasn't a whole lot higher than if I had purchased a slightly used upright."

"Did you buy any of the books you went to the sale for?"

"You bet. They had sold only a hand full on the first day of the sale. They really wanted to get rid of them without giving them to charity, so they offered me a great deal if I took them all, to which I quickly agreed. When I asked about the bookcases, they were only too happy to sell them also. It took several trips in the pickup, but it was well worth it."

"Do you mind if I play some more?"

"Not at all, I was very much enjoying it."

"As much as you enjoy touching me?"

He shakes his head and answers, "I'm sorry, my lady, but nothing is as enjoyable as touching you."

"Thank you. Is there something you would like me to play?"

"Just play what you want. Forget I'm here. Enjoy your playing and I'll enjoy listening."

A half hour or so later, Sharlene stops and explains, "My fingers are getting sore."

"I understand and sympathize. Any time you want to play the piano, be my guest. I really enjoyed listening."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." She goes to the kitchen, gets a drink, downs about half of it before she arrives at the sofa, and tells him, "One of my problems is that when I start to concentrate on something, I forget about something to drink. Do you have room there for another body?"

He waves his arm at the rest of the sofa as he tells her, "There's plenty of room for you, even if you want to lay down."

"I do need to be specific when I talk to you."

He looks at her with a puzzled expression and asks, "Did I miss something?"

She leans over to kiss his forehead and answers, "No. You were just being more precise in your use of the language. What I meant was, do you have room on your lap for another body?"

He opens his arms wide and proclaims, "Always, for you."

She quickly sits on his upper legs, snuggles up to him, is comforted in his warm embrace, and tells him, "Thank you. You sure are nice to cuddle with."

"I think you're so cuddle-able, there's no effort and only pleasure to be gained to cuddle and hug you. Sometimes when I see you or hold you, I'm reminded of my grandma who insisted that good things come in small packages."

"Was she small?"

"I think she was all of five feet tall at her highest and as she got older, she shrunk, both in height and in width. Somewhere, I have a picture of her a couple of years before she died when she was standing next to one of my nephews and it looked like he was easily four times her overall size."

"You think I'm a good thing in a small package? Would I be a better thing in a bigger or even smaller package?"

"First off, Sharlene, you're not a thing. In my opinion, you're great rather than just good and you're in a perfect sized package."

"Perfect sized? George, isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?"

"I don't think so. You're the best package of femininity I've ever seen."

"How can you say that? You haven't seen all of me."

"You're right. Okay. Starting from what I've seen and felt and extrapolating from there, you're the best package I've ever seen or touched."

"And if I was to object, you would say it was your opinion and that you didn't care what anyone else thought."

He grins then responds, "You're right about that."

"Well, I can't argue, so I'll just have to accept your opinion and," she snuggles closer, "enjoy your flattery."

For quite awhile, they quietly enjoy the comfort and gentle pleasure of cuddling with each other.

She asks, "Do you have anything you want to do before we go to Aunt Paula and Uncle Paul's?"

"I probably ought to check to see that Molly has food and water available. Maybe play with her for a few minutes if she wants."

Sharlene quickly sits up and exclaims, "Oh, I've forgotten all about Molly."

"Don't worry. She's fine. When she wants attention, she'll come ask for it or go to someone else for it. She's not my pet. I think of her as her own person although there's something of a communication gap between us. In many ways, she looks and acts like a canine, but I think she's much more."

"From the stories Aunt Paula has told me, she is something else."

He nods his head as he responds, "She sure is. It still puzzles me why she's friendly with me and not very many others. Oh, well, hop up and we'll go see if Molly is around and I can show you where I keep her food and water." As they step out the back door, Molly is there, just as if she knew they were talking about her. After she gets a good petting, hug, and a scratch from each of them, Molly leads them over to the garage.

Sharlene looks at where Molly led them to, is surprised at what she sees, and asks, "How come the food's in a pan of water?"

"I used to have a problem with ants getting into Molly's food. No matter where I put it, within a day or so, the ants found it. Finally I set this up. Ants aren't good swimmers as you can see," as he points to a couple of ants which are floating in the water. "When I fill up the reservoir which gravity feeds into the food dish, it will last her a couple of weeks, even with the birds getting some. The water I have set up so when it drops to a certain level, it will turn on and refill.

"There were often times when I didn't go out of the house for days at a time and I didn't want her to go without food and water. Of course, she's smart enough not to wait on me. I know Paula and Paul have food and water set out for her and others in town feed her when she visits them." He turns from Sharlene and says, "Molly, we'll be going down to Paula and Paul's in a little while for dinner. Did you want to play for a little while before we go?"

She looks at him for a moment.

"No, we won't walk down this time. We'll take a vehicle. I'm not ready for that long of a walk yet, especially if we stay long enough for me to run out of energy." He bends down to hug and pet her and tells her, "Yes, I know it's an easy run for you, but you're a lot younger and have twice as many legs as I do." He stands back up and she dashes off to soon return with a tennis ball which she drops into his hand for him to throw.

While Molly chases the ball he threw, Sharlene remarks, "You talk to her as though she understands you."

"I'll bet she understands me a lot better than I understand her." He throws the ball for Molly again. "Since I can't speak 'canine', I have to use standard. I think she's smarter than a number of people who I've had to deal with over the years. If I had to speak to them as though they were adults, I see no reason not to talk to Molly in the same manner. Your turn," as Molly drops the ball at Sharlene's feet. After she chases the ball a few more times, Molly sets it down near her food bowl, then comes over to them and leans on them for another petting. A couple of minutes later, Molly trots off.

As they go back into the house, Sharlene asks, "You said something to Molly about not walking down this time. What did you mean?"

"There's a path which Paul and I cut between here and their place. It's an easy walk in the sense of mild grades and no obstructions, but it's longer than I'm ready to walk at this time and probably for awhile yet."

"I suppose if I'm going to have dinner ready for when Aunt Paula closes the store, we ought to go over there soon."

"That sounds fine. Let me stop by the bathroom then I'll be ready to lock up and go. Oh, I'd better take my bills and drop them off in the mail on the way."

"Whose vehicle shall you take?"

"If you don't mind, it might be best to take yours. If I get too tired, I wouldn't want you to try driving a strange vehicle after dark."

"That's a good point. Let me grab the sourdough bread and go open up the vehicle and I'll wait for you there."

"Okay."

* * * * *

2147-08-31 (e1)

After a nice dinner with quiet conversation, they end up on the back porch. Sometime later, during a lull in the conversation, George notices that Molly's head is resting on his knee and he's absentmindedly petting her and scratching her behind her ears. He remarks to the others, "I never have understood why Molly likes me."

"I think I figured it out," Paul says to a chorus of 'What?', 'Why?', and 'How?' "A couple of weeks ago, I was working on your old vehicle and found a bad part. I doubt if it had been causing any problems itself, but once everything else was fixed, it probably would have chosen then to break. Then I would have had to take it all apart again, so I figured it would be easier to just get it replaced. Apparently, that part was only used on that model because I couldn't find a replacement. After I checked with several wrecking yards, one in 740x156 had a couple they said were in good shape. So I drove over and bought one.

"On the way home, I was sitting at a red light and noticed a veterinarian office a little ways down the street and something clicked, so I stopped in. After I introduced myself and asked a few questions, everything fell into place. Remember, oh, a couple of years ago, when you stopped some guys beating on a canine and then took the canine there because we didn't have a veterinarian here?"

George nods his head as he answers, "It's hard to forget trying to drive one handed because a canine is in your lap with your other hand in its jaws. Are you saying that was Molly?"

"That was before she was named Molly."

Sharlene asks, "So what's the story?"

Paul answers, "Well, this old man of yours found three or four guys beating up on a half grown canine and he threatened to kill them if they didn't leave. You tell it, George."

"They left. The canine was badly beaten, with broken bones and blood all over. She was thin and her coat was ragged, so I guessed she had been malnourished before. I was ready to put her out of her misery, but when I looked into her eyes, I couldn't do it. So I got an old blanket out of the pickup and tried to carefully wrap her in it. When I went to pick her up, she bit me on the left wrist and wouldn't let go.

"She didn't act like she had rabies, so I thought 'some gratitude', carried her to the pickup, and drove to the veterinarian's. Once there, the doctor had to give her a sedative to get my hand out of her jaw. I gave them some money to fix her if they could then went to the local medical clinic to get my wrist looked at. Apparently most of the blood was the canine's so they washed and bandaged my wrist and I went home."

Paul shakes his head as he explains, "He says 'some money'. The veterinarian said it was more like a blank check which was real surprising because he said it wasn't his pet and had just stopped some guys from beating up on her. It took awhile, but they were able to fix her up. As she recuperated, they called her Molly and made a tag. Since they didn't know who the real owner was, they didn't put any other information on the tag. Sometime after she was fully recovered, she just left.

"I was able to assure them that she was doing fine although they were somewhat surprised she would have come here, since this was where she was injured. I suggested it was because this was where she was rescued. Well, we're not one hundred percent sure that this Molly is the same canine, so they gave me the number from the electronic chip on her name tag. It's the same technology which is used for vehicle identification, so I should be able to read it with my own scanner."

When Paul shows the scanner, a low rumble comes from Molly.

As he pets and hugs her, George tries to comfort her, "It's okay, Molly. Paul isn't going to hurt you."

Molly relaxes some, but remains on guard and stands still while Paul runs the scanner over her name tag. With a beep a number is displayed which matches the number he had written down from the veterinarian.

Paul announces, "Yep, Molly's the canine you rescued, George."

"I'll be dogged."

They laugh at his play on words as he gives Molly another hug. The laughter quickly turns to stunned silence as Molly very clearly licks George's left wrist as though she's licking a wound.

Paul is the first to recover and says, "I think she's apologizing for biting you."

"No apology is necessary, Molly, you saved my life too."

After she gives him a brief lick to his face, she leans on him for more hugging.

"I never would have guessed. Considering how big she is, she probably wasn't even half grown when I took her to the veterinarian."

"Well, George, that's one mystery solved, but it still doesn't explain how she knew to pull me out of the store several minutes before you collapsed or to come into the store almost an hour before an attempted robbery."

"We'll never know, Paula. Even if Molly could talk, she probably doesn't understand it any better than we do."

"George, I'll go ahead and confirm with the veterinarian that Molly is the canine you rescued and they fixed and they can list you as the registered owner."

"Paul, she's not my pet, she's a friend, and one doesn't own a friend."

"We all know that, George. I'm not doing it for your sake, I want to do it for her sake. As a stray animal, Molly has no rights under the law. But if she's legally recognized as your pet, then you are well within your rights to protect her, up to and including using deadly force."

"I hadn't thought about it from that aspect. Paul, why don't you include yourself, Paula, and Sharlene as registered owners also? Molly is here as much or more than she is at my place."

"Do either of you ladies have an objection?" Paul sees their shaking heads then says, "That's settled then. I'll finish filling out the form and get it sent in."

"You already have the form?"

Paul nods his head as he answers, "I was quite confident that Molly was the canine you rescued, so I had the veterinarian start the form. If I was wrong, it would be a piece of paper to shred. Since I'm right, I saved a trip back to the veterinarian."

After that, the conversation turns to other topics. Less than a couple of hours later when George starts to yawn, Sharlene calls it an evening and explains that she has no intention of trying to carry George into the house if he falls asleep. A few minutes later, they arrive at George's and greet Molly who's sitting on the front porch as though to tease them about how slow they are. Once George is changed into his pajamas, Sharlene tucks him into bed with a few long slow good night kisses. He responds enthusiastically, but is clearly tiring fast because he does very little touching of her to her disappointment.

* * * * *

2147-08-31 (e2)

After she steps away to let him go to sleep, she wanders around the house a little, makes some tea, and while she slowly drinks it, she looks over his collection of movie recordings. She chuckles when she realizes that most of the movies were made long before she was born.

As she again wonders what kind of reactions they'll get over their obvious difference in ages, she's surprised to remember that when they were in the grocery store this morning, there was no reaction, probably because the people there had no idea what their relationship was becoming. They knew George and some of them knew she was Paula's niece and it seemed to be common knowledge that she had saved him. If they're obviously spending more time together and if it comes out that she's staying at his house instead of Aunt Paula's, then the eyebrows probably will be raised.

She thinks about it some more then has to ask herself, what about the other people who might be a part of the company? If they have problems with it, they can find somewhere else to work, she decides. When it comes to job skills, no one is irreplaceable, including herself. But with relationships, that's another story. Since she recognizes the futility of investigating every man alive, she decides that George is unique and she intends to keep him and if someone else doesn't like it, that's their problem. She chuckles to herself as she thinks she could also claim it as diversity and point out the fallacies of age discrimination in relationships.

Once she's finished with her tea, she goes back to the 'empty' guest bedroom and sorts through some more lingerie. As she thinks of the years George refers to for enjoying their touching and while she regrets the probability that he will die when she's barely middle aged, she decides to be selfish and sets aside everything which is her size or slightly larger in a pile for her. If she finds another man after George, he'll no doubt be interested in her wearing lingerie.

After a brief hesitation, she guesses at Paula and Mariam's sizes and sets aside some for them to choose from. The lingerie which she thinks is somewhat too large for any of them, she sets aside and thinks about asking Mariam about what size Julie is or any others who might be interested in some free lingerie. When she starts to feel tired herself, she goes through her pile and is amazed at the choices she's found already after only three boxes, and decides to try on a long full skirted silky nightgown and wonders what treasures await her in the other boxes.

In the guest bedroom, she carefully looks the nightgown over since she's never owned one before and decides it must pull on over her head. She enjoys how the soft fabric feels across her hand and bare forearm then she sets it aside to get undressed. She lays the nightgown out on the bed, reaches up through the skirt of the nightgown to the outsides of the shoulder straps, grabs the gathered skirt in her hands and slips it over her head and releases it to slink down across the bare skin of her body. With a couple of adjustments, she soon has the stretch lace bodice settled into place.

As she looks in the mirrored door of the closet, she sees what appears to be another woman. That can't be her. But as she touches her face and her shoulders, the mirrored image makes the same moves. She takes out her braid, quickly brushes her hair, and as her long hair lays down her back with some across her shoulders and down her bodice, she looks back in the mirror, and just knows that George will very much like to see her like this. As she turns her body from side to side, she feels the skirt slide across her legs like the lightest of his caresses.

She opens the door of the bedroom, starts to walk down the hall, and stops in surprise as the skirt of the nightgown seems to softly mold itself to her legs and slide along her skin as she walks. While she slowly walks the rest of the way down the hall and into the front room, she watches the skirt of the nightgown mold itself first to one leg and then to the other while she enjoys the feel of the skirt across the bare skin of her legs as it slides onto her leg and back off. She turns around and walks back up the hall while she takes slower and longer strides in order to try to enjoy every movement of the skirt along her legs.

After she turns around again, she walks back down the hall and pays special attention to how high up her thighs the skirt of the nightgown molds itself when she walks. While she's not sure whether she's trying to distract herself from the feelings which are beginning to bubble up inside of her, or to experience a fuller range of movements of the skirt sliding along her legs, she starts to do some of her half remembered ballet moves in combination with some of her more open martial arts moves. Soon, she feels the skirt of the nightgown mold itself to the full length of her legs and it even (gasp) seems to cup her pubic area. As she makes those moves again, she looks down and can actually see her pubic hair outlined by the thin fabric of the skirt.

A little later, she brings her movement to a quick halt then feels the lacy fabric of the nightgown's bodice move a fraction of an inch across her hardening nipples. Deliberately, she reaches up and slides the lace bodice across her chest as her nipples quickly harden, extend, and send waves of pleasure through her. A moment later, she reaches down with her right hand and cups the skirt of the nightgown onto her pubic area as she tries to move down the hall without stumbling.

She quickly closes the guest bedroom door, throws herself onto the bed, and as she lands, one of her fingers slips between her labia and as she begins to caress her clitoris, a cry of pleasure almost immediately bursts forth. As she rolls partially onto her right side, she slips her left hand under the bodice of her nightgown to directly caress her right breast and nipple and while the fingers of her right hand continue to play with her labia and clitoris, another cry of pleasure escapes her lips.

Moments later, she grips her thigh with her right hand to keep it away from her pubic area then tries to relax while she breathes heavily and succeeds for awhile. Then she rolls onto her back and her right hand slides up her thigh to her pubic area and soon her thumb presses the skirt of her nightgown between her labia and as she spreads her legs wide, it moves up and down across her clitoris. While she deeply groans with pleasure, she moves her left hand to her left breast and as her fingertips close in on and gently twist her erect nipple through the lacy bodice, she arches her back, groans louder, touches, arches her back more, touches herself even more, then finally releases a long cry of climactic pleasure. As she collapses onto her back, she rolls onto her left side and as her hands fall away from her sensitized anatomy, she soon falls into an exhausted sleep.

* * * * *

When Sharlene wakes up a couple of hours later and feels chilled, it takes her a little while to figure out how she ended up sleeping on top of the bed wearing a thin sleeveless nightgown with the light still on. As she smiles at the remembered experience, she goes to the bathroom to empty her bladder and quickly wash her pubic area. Back in the bedroom, she somewhat reluctantly takes off the nightgown and puts on her pajamas. She looks at the bed and when she realizes how long it will take to warm it up, she turns off the light, goes into George's bedroom, slips into his bed, cuddles up to his back, and is soon toasty warm and asleep.

* * * * *

2147-08-32 (n>m1)

As he wakes up, George quickly notices two things, his bladder is yelling and a warm body is snuggled up to his back. He smiles at Sharlene's presence then makes his way to the bathroom and takes care of his urgent need. He steps back to the bed and watches her sleep for a little while then he gets into bed and lays on his back. When he settles his debate with himself, he carefully slips his left arm under her head and across her back and is soon asleep.

* * * * *

Sharlene is a little surprised when she wakes up and finds that she's cuddled up to George's side with her head on his shoulder and his left arm around her when she remembers going to sleep while she was cuddled up to his back. Either he rolled over, no, that doesn't make sense because he would have rolled onto her. It's more likely that he got up to go to the bathroom and came back and carefully put his arm under her head and pulled her close. She has to smile at his desire to cuddle with her without pushing her further so she decides to stay there for awhile and enjoy his comforting presence. Soon, she slides her left arm across his chest, pulls herself closer, and after a little while she dozes off.

Sometime later, she wakes up again, recognizes her bladder as the culprit this time then decides she's awake enough to stay up. As she gets dressed in shirt and pants, she wonders how long last night's pleasure will keep her desires under control. She thinks about last night while she starts to make a mug of tea then quickly decides she had better think of something else. After she does a quick check of her phone and her email while her tea is steeping, she sees that all is quiet on the electronic front. She takes her mug of brewed tea with her, steps out onto the back porch, and looks around his yard in the morning light while she sips her tea.

A couple of minutes later, Molly trots around the end of the house and they greet each other. Several minutes later, Molly goes to the garage, but instead of eating or drinking as Sharlene expected, she pushes through the bottom of the door which Sharlene assumes must be a doggy door. A moment later, Molly comes back out of the door carrying something.

When she sees the brush drop into her outstretched hand, Sharlene gives Molly a surprised look, takes the last swallow of her tea, then kneels down and begins to brush Molly. Since she's a big canine with a thick coat of fur, it takes quite awhile to brush her, but Molly seems to enjoy it and is very cooperative, including lifting her head to be brushed under her chin, and rolling onto her back to have her belly brushed. When Sharlene complains about having to re-brush her back, Molly gives her what could be interpreted as a doggy grin.

The only trouble comes when Sharlene starts to brush the backs of Molly's back legs, Molly grumbles a little, but holds still and makes no threatening moves. When Molly is fully brushed, Sharlene cleans out the brush and sets it on the table to take back to the garage. Molly hops up, grabs the brush and takes it to the garage herself, then comes back to give Sharlene a quick lick and get a hug in return. Instead of going across the yard, she goes to the sliding glass door to get a hug and a quick petting from George before she almost prances across the yard with her coat shining in the sunshine.

As she looks at him a little more closely, Sharlene notices that he's thrown a robe on over his pajamas and asks, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Good morning, beautiful lady. Just a few moments." George looks in the direction Molly went and says, "She does like a thorough brushing. You did a good job."

"I'm sorry. Good morning, George, and thank you. She seemed to enjoy it."

"I know I should brush her more often, but I tend to forget until she brings the brush."

"Did you teach her to get the brush?"

He shakes his head as he answers, "No. One time after I brushed her, she followed me and saw where I put it. After that, she gets it on her own. Only once in awhile do I remember to brush her without her reminding me and then I'm usually lazy and ask her to get it and she dashes off and is soon back with the brush. I'm sorry, I should have warned you about brushing her."

She has a puzzled expression on her face as she asks, "Warned me?"

"Yes. Now I can call you my lovely hairy lady."

As she looks down at herself, Sharlene sees that her clothes are covered in Molly colored canine hairs and exclaims, "Oh, no. I don't want to track this through your house. What am I going to do?"

"Ah, yes." He hunches his shoulders and rubs his hands together with a grin, a leering look, and tells her with an 'evil' accent, "What you can do, my lovely luscious lady, is take all of your clothes off out here, hose you down with very cold water, then warm you up with my body."

As she laughs at his caricature as well as his unusual solution to her apparent dilemma, she bows to him, says, "If that is what I must do, oh Mighty Maniac Manufactured in Myopia, I see no way out but to accede to your demands," and she begins to slowly undo the buttons of her shirt.

In a panicked voice, "No, Sharlene, please, stop," he races over to grab her hands to stop her, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I like your creativity. I've already enjoyed being warmed up by your body. To be honest, I don't like the idea of being hosed down 'with very cold water', but if you promise to warm me with your body, I would be willing to take my clothes off out here. However, I assume you have another solution."

"You tempt an old man. It would probably be best if you stepped into the laundry room and changed. Rather than have me rummage through your clothes, I can give you a robe to wear to go from the laundry room to the bedroom."

"You don't want me prancing through the house in my bra and panty . . . or less?"

"Oh yes, I do, very much so. But if I start touching you a lot more now, I won't be able to touch you less later."

"George, thank you for desiring me and thank you also for restraining your desires. I can't tell you how much I appreciate both. You'd better go get the laundry room door open and that robe set out before I kiss you right here and get you all hairy."

He dashes off and soon has the laundry room door open and puts a robe on the hook on the back of the laundry room door then clearly closes the door. In an effort to distract himself from the too easily conjured image of her undressing, he rushes to get himself dressed then goes to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. As the tea is steeping, he leans on the kitchen sink while he stares out the window then hears the inside laundry room door open.

A moment later, she asks, "George, what do you want me to do with my hairy clothes?"

Without turning around, he says, "You can either wash them right away or wait and wash them with other clothes. If you want, there should be an empty laundry basket in the bottom of the cupboard next to the washer where you can put them if you want to wait."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm afraid of hurting you. I'm afraid of not being able to control my desires. I'm so sorry. I want you, but I don't want to spoil the journey for you."

Sharlene steps up behind him, hugs his back, and tells him, "Thank you, George. I'm sorry to cause you such a dilemma. I'm sure it's much harder for you, but I think I somewhat understand. I also want you, want you to touch all of me, and me to touch all of you, but I also don't want to spoil the journey. We could separate for a few days, but that would spoil the journey and probably make it even harder when we got back together. Since the journey is more about you touching me, I could suggest that I touch you," she sees him firmly shake his head, "but I'm guessing if I did that you couldn't resist touching me in a similar way," he strongly nods his head. "Then maybe you ought to touch yourself to get relief."

He hesitates then responds, "I've thought about that, but it usually doesn't work when I think of giving myself pleasure, especially when you're here and I should be putting my energy into giving you pleasure."

"Then think about giving me pleasure." She slides around him, under his arm and forces her way between him and the edge of the sink. "Better yet, give me pleasure, excite me, and let your body take care of itself."

He opens his eyes wide in surprise then asks, "Are you sure?"

"I think all of our touching so far has developed rather spontaneously. This time, let's be creative and touch and excite each other deliberately."

He hesitates before he asks, "How, uh, how do you want me to touch you?"

* * * * *

2147-08-32 (m2)

As Sharlene quickly mentally reviews the different ways in which he has already touched her, she feels somewhat shy, then boldly looks up at him, and requests, "Kiss my calves, please."

A moment later, she firmly pushes George away from the sink and leads him to the love seat where he sits down. She leans over him and begins to passionately kiss him. When she lets him breathe, she pulls up the bottom of the robe to her knees and climbs onto the love seat while she straddles his legs. As she leans over him again, she starts to kiss his neck and pushes on the back of the seat so it reclines while she sprawls on top of him. After his breathing has mostly recovered, he grabs her waist and pulls her up along his body a few inches to begin kissing her ears and neck. Just the idea of her body sliding along his body starts her moaning which quickly turns into groans as his kisses capture her attention.

A little later, while she partially supports herself on her left arm, she slides her right arm between their bodies, and begins to unbutton his shirt. After a couple of buttons are undone, she slides the palm of her right hand back and forth across his bare skin, starting at his neck and slowly working down his chest. When she can go no further, she undoes two more buttons and as she starts at his neck again, she caresses the bare skin of his chest and feels his growing excitement. After she undoes the last of his shirt buttons, she pulls the bottom of his shirt out of his pants and spreads the shirt wide to expose his chest and upper abdomen to her caressing hand. A little later, she pulls back a little, starts to kiss his ears and neck and as his breathing becomes more rapid, she encourages him, "Yes, George, yes!"

After she pauses just long enough to pull her knees up further along his sides, she lowers her chest to slide back and forth across his chest, deliberately raises her buttocks into the air, and continues to caress his upper abdomen with her right hand while she occasionally slips a thumb or a fingertip under the waist band of his pants. When his body arches up between her legs, she turns her wrist, slides her hand between her legs, and briefly touches herself before she cries out with her climax while he tries to arch his body even higher before he slumps. As she feels his body fall, she automatically moves her right hand away from between her legs to catch her own falling body then relaxes on top of him. When she recovers first, she whispers in his ear, "Thank you," then begins to kiss and nibble his ear and neck. Soon, she slides her body down his body a couple of inches and kisses him across the bare skin over his clavicles and the top of his chest.

He groans, "Thank you lady. You sure know how to excite a man."

"I'm glad you got excited, that's what I wanted you to do. To be honest, I'm only giving back to you a little of what you've been giving me." As she sits up, she caresses his chest and upper abdomen with both of her hands.

He swallows nervously and starts to speak, "Uh . . ."

"What?"

"The top of your robe is open."

She pauses her caressing for a moment to look down at herself, sees her bra hook and an inch or so on either side, resumes caressing his chest, and says, "So it is."

He can barely contain his surprise as he asks, "You don't care if I look?"

"I do care if you look. I want you to look. I like you to look at me. The more you look and touch, the more I want you to look and touch. That reminds me, thank you for the lingerie. Last night I tried on a long full skirted nightgown. I've never worn one before. When I looked in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself. I undid my braid, brushed out my hair, and as I looked in the mirror again, I knew you would want to see me like that. I almost went in and woke you up to show you.

"The bodice was made of stretch lace with a deep scoop neckline that went like this," as she slides a finger in a line across his chest she can almost see him start to build a mental image, "and was held up by two thin straps," she draws two lines up his chest to his shoulders with her fingertips. "The skirt was full and went from here," her fingers draw another line across the middle of his chest, "all the way to the floor," then two lines from his chest, down his sides, and over his hips.

"When I walked, I could see and feel the fabric of the skirt mold itself to my legs, then lightly caress my legs as it unmolded. It reminded me a lot of your light caresses and got me excited. I came to the front room here and while I tried some half remembered ballet moves in combination with some martial arts moves, I could feel and see the fabric mold itself to my entire leg, from my ankle all . the . . way . . . up," while she slides her hands slowly up her thighs as he eagerly looks on. "When I tried those same moves again, I saw the thin fabric outline my pubic hair as it molded itself to my body like a second skin. As I thought of you touching me there, I had to go to the bedroom and touch myself to bring release."

As he starts to rock his hips beneath her, he hesitates to admit, "It's a good thing I didn't see you last night. Even imagining what you must have looked like, is almost more than I can contain, but I don't think I have the energy for more."

While she swivels her hips to match his rhythm, but in the opposite direction, she 'warns' him, "If you keep this up, I'm going to want more."

He reaches up, gently pulls her head down, simply says, "Enjoy," and passionately kisses her lips to her immediate delighted response.

Before he runs out of breath, he slips his hands into her robe, holds onto the bare skin of her waist and pulls her up a little to transfer his kisses to her neck and across her clavicle. As he pulls her up a little more, his kisses move down across her chest, down towards the center, and back out while she groans in response. Since she feels like she can't resist the growing excitement, she reaches between her legs with her right hand and starts to touch herself through her panty. The tip of his tongue starts at one of her bra straps then he slowly follows the top of her bra to its center hook and the additional pleasure from his kisses and tongue caresses encourage a cry of climax to escape her lips. She lets her right hand fall from between her legs then slides it across his chest before she almost falls in relaxation on top of him. He slips his hands out from under her robe and snugly hugs her.

After awhile, she's able to tell him, "Thank you, my man, I did enjoy."

"I'm glad." For several minutes they just lay there while they enjoy the closeness of each other's bodies. As he tries to think of something to distract him from the pleasure of her laying on him, he remembers, "I think I have a well brewed pot of tea and we could both use some breakfast."

"I know, but it's so nice to be with you like this with our bodies touching and spent in pleasure."

"I completely agree. There's nothing I like more than giving you pleasure and then touching and holding you afterwards. But as you've had to remind me, we need energy if we're going to give each other some more pleasure. By the way, I'm glad you like the lingerie, although I hadn't guessed you would have such a response to it. I very much look forward to the time when I'm brave enough to see you wear it."

"Mmm, I suppose I'd better get off of you. My legs aren't used to being in this position for this long."

When she starts to sit up, he stops her and suggests, "Please tuck the robe around you before you sit up."

"Are you afraid to see some bare skin?"

"I'm afraid that if I see more of your lovely bare skin, I'll want to touch it and once I get started touching, I won't be able to stop."

"Thank you for the warning." As she lifts herself up a little, she tucks the robe across the front of her, rolls onto her left side, sits up on the other side of the love seat, and stops.

"Sharlene?"

"I'm just a little dizzy." She turns her head towards him, pats his right knee, gives him one of her dazzling smiles, and says, "I guess I do need some breakfast."

She gets up and walks down the hall towards the bedroom. As he watches her, he realizes that she's allowed the front of the robe to hang open. He doesn't even want to begin to imagine what a lovely sight she must be from the front.

George gets up and goes to his own bedroom while he buttons up his shirt. In the bathroom, he washes up and when his clothes are in order, he goes to the kitchen to start getting things ready for breakfast. As he looks up and sees her step into the kitchen, he breathes a mental sigh of relief that she's dressed in nothing more provocative that a long sleeve shirt and pants.

Sharlene steps up close, pulls his head down, kisses him thoroughly, and tells him, "Thank you for giving me pleasure."

When his breathing is partially normal, he responds, "It's my . . . pleasure."

"I know and that's why it makes my pleasure so much more exciting. So, oh great giver of pleasure, what's for breakfast?"

"How about eggs, toast, and tea?"

"That sounds fine, but," she looks at the counter "what's with the ham, onion, and grated cheese?"

"I thought I would throw them in with scrambled eggs."

"That sounds good." She opens up the container of coarsely chopped onion, takes out a couple of pieces, eats them, and proclaims, "Mmm, that's a good onion." She takes out a couple of more pieces, says, "Open up," and pops them into his mouth.

When he finishes chewing, he asks, "What was that all about?"

Instead of answering him, she kisses him again. As she lets him catch his breath, she explains, "I didn't want you to have to kiss my oniony month without being on equal ground."

* * * * *

2147-08-32 (m3)

While George tries to laugh while he catches his breath, he can only hug her close for awhile before he tells her, "Okay, my silly lady. I'll get the eggs going if you want to pour the tea and watch over the toast."

"What kind of jam or jelly do you have?"

"Whatever's in the fridge."

Sharlene opens the fridge and reports, "I see strawberry and orange marmalade."

"Humm, I must have finished off the blackberry."

Her eyes open wide in delight as she asks, "You had blackberry jelly?"

"I should have some more in the pantry."

She looks in the pantry and says, "I don't see any."

"It won't have a label. It will be in a glass half pint jar with 'BB' and a date on top of the lid."

She holds up a jar which matches his description and asks, "Is this it?"

"Yep."

She dances a little jig as she proclaims, "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy."

"I'm guessing you like blackberry."

"It's my favorite. But it's hard to find."

"I know."

"So where do you get it and how come it doesn't have a label?"

"I make it."

"You . . . make . . . it?" She stares at him in wide eyed surprise.

"It's somewhat messy and takes a lot of berries, but the results are enjoyable." He hands her a plate of scrambled eggs with a piece of toast and suggests, "Here, put some on your toast and try it."

"I thought I was going to make the toast."

"You got distracted."

"I'm sorry, George."

"Don't be. I like to see you be happy and excited. It gives meaning to my life."

She takes her plate, sets it on the table, and tries to open the jar, but the lid doesn't even budge. "The lid must be stuck."

He sets his own plate on the table and steps back into the kitchen. A moment later, he hands her what looks like a large rubber gasket, and suggests, "Try using this to improve your grip."

She places it over the lid of the jar, takes a good grip, and twists. With an audible 'pop,' the lid unscrews. She sets the lid and 'gasket' aside, lifts the jar up, deeply inhales, and exhales with expression, "Mmm."

He dips the tip of a spoon into the jar, turns the spoon towards her, requests, "Open wide", and puts the spoon in her mouth. When he pulls the now empty spoon out past her closed lips, she closes her eyes and seems to roll the small amount of jelly around in her mouth.

After a little while, Sharlene opens her eyes, and proclaims, "George, that's wonderful."

"You probably ought to eat your eggs before they get cold. The blackberry jelly will wait."

She takes a bite of her eggs and exclaims, "This is good, too. Where did you get the idea to put ham, onion, and cheese in scrambled eggs?"

"From a flopped omelet. When I couldn't seem to do an omelet right, I ended up scrambling it, so I just started adding the ingredients to scrambled eggs. It doesn't taste quite the same, but it's good enough."

"Tell me about the blackberries. If you make the jelly, that means you have to get the berries from somewhere. Do you import them from the Tahoma quadrant?"

He chuckles as he shakes his head then responds, "I'm afraid that would be too expensive. No, I grow them."

"I thought it was too hot and dry to grow them here."

"Generally speaking, that's true. I've found a couple of rather shady places so they get little direct sunlight and then in the spring I set up misters to give them extra moisture and help with the cooling process. The berry bushes aren't as prolific as those in their native environment, but they produce enough to allow me to have blackberry jelly. I have a few seedlings started in the greenhouse to add to my berry patches. I considered setting up a greenhouse just for blackberries, but a cost analysis showed it would be less expensive to go several years to the Tahoma quadrant for two weeks or so, pick a couple hundred pounds of berries and bring them back."

"Are greenhouses that expensive to build that it's cheaper to fly there, stay two weeks in a hotel, buy your meals, pay someone to pick the berries, ship them back, and do that for several years?"

He laughs then answers, "No, if I did my cost analysis on that basis, then it would probably be less expensive to build a greenhouse."

"I don't understand."

"That's okay. You're probably not in the mode of thinking like a pfennig pincher."

"What's a pfennig pincher?

"Do you know what a pfennig is?"

She thinks for a moment then says, "From the context, I'm guessing it's some form of money, but beyond that, I don't know."

"A pfennig is the smallest denomination of coin in the Deutsche monetary system and is considered almost worthless. So a pfennig pincher is someone who will hold onto every pfennig and only reluctantly part with one to purchase something."

"I assume you're referring to yourself as a pfennig pincher. So, how would you go to the Tahoma quadrant and get blackberries cheaper?"

He explains, "About the only direct expense would be fuel for my pickup. I drive up there, take my food with me so I don't have to buy meals, camp out so I don't have to pay for motels, pick the berries where they're free, like along road sides or on public lands, then bring them back with me so I don't have to pay for shipping them. Assuming there are no mechanical or health problems, about the only things to prevent a successful trip are an overall poor harvest and competition from birds, bears, deer, and other humans. I'm not saying it's fun to go without a shower for two weeks or to use a bush for a bathroom, but that's what I would need to do to make it even partially cost effective. Even then, every jar of jelly would be a little more expensive than the cost of a jar from the grocery store when it's available."

She holds up the jar of jelly which she's already liberally dipped into to enjoy on a piece of toast and asks, "How does this compare to store bought jelly when you grow your own?"

"If I only calculate the direct cost of supplies, it's a little cheaper. If I factor in the cost of extra care for the bushes, and my time, then it's somewhat more expensive. The factors which make it worthwhile are that I have it when I want it and I know what's been used to make it."

"I'm sorry. Here I am making a pig of myself with it."

"Do you like it?"

"Oh, yes. It's wonderful."

"Then have some more."

She shakes her head and says, "I couldn't."

"My lady, look at the date on the lid."

"2145."

"I have two more years of jelly stashed in my cellar and each year my berry patches are producing a little more. So have some more and enjoy. Would you like some more on a piece of bread, or on toast, or straight?" He dips a spoon into the jar and holds it up to her.

Since she's unwilling to spurn his generous offer, she gladly accepts the spoon, closes her eyes, and just lets the jelly melt in her mouth and only swallows when her mouth is filled with melted berry flavor and sweetness. "Oh, George, that's so good. Thank you. But no more right now. I don't want to overindulge."

He gets up, leans over, kisses her forehead, says, "I'm glad you like it," and starts to clear the table and clean up after breakfast.

She quickly gets up and helps clean up and as he rinses off the dirty dishes, she hugs him from behind and rests her head between his shoulder blades.

When he's done, he loosens her arms, turns around, kisses the top of her head, and hugs her, "I'm sorry, I never did kiss your calves this morning."

"That's okay. We found another way to excite us. So, what's on the agenda for today?"

He briefly thinks then says, "I could go over dramatic and say 'To touch or to be touched, that is the question.' From a more practical standpoint, I was thinking of checking over the yard and the garden, maybe start cutting the grass. All done rather slowly with breaks in-between."

"Let me go with you and help you. That way I can learn how you do things as well as to monitor how you're doing. Do I need to change?"

"Your shirt and pants are fine. I might have a hat to fit you, but I think my gloves will be too big." He looks down, "You probably ought to put something on your pretty little feet."

"You think my feet are pretty?"

He imitates the gruff voice often heard in frontier movies, "Little lady, there ain't nothing 'bout you that don't define prettiness itself."

"Oh, George." After she stretches up to give him a good kiss, she dashes off to put some shoes on and leaves him standing in the kitchen, breathless, and still amazed that she so willingly kisses him.

For the next three hours, they slowly go over the flower beds, pull the occasional weed or clip a ripe seed pod, some he saves and others he spreads around the yard. Every quarter to half hour or so he sits down and rests for awhile either on an old chair, a stump, or a rock, all of which seemed to be strategically located for him to rest. Rather than tackle the garden right then, they go in for a lunch of sandwiches, made with peanut butter and, of course, blackberry jelly.

* * * * *

2147-08-32 (a)

While George reclines on the love seat to rest, Sharlene opens another box of lingerie and sorts through it. She gets excited when she sees some more long nightgowns in her size, a couple more just like the one she wore last night in different colors and a couple of other similar styles in different colors. One that particular catches her eye has a top which ties at the back of the neck with a very deep 'v' neckline which goes clear to the navel and a bare back to just above the buttocks. She can just imagine his reaction to this one with her long black hair sliding across her bare back. As she thinks about it some more, she would enjoy her own reaction, especially after he brushed her hair to silky softness.

That thought leads to the idea of having him brush her hair while she wears this nightgown. She decides that maybe she shouldn't do it in the near future or her hair won't be brushed and the nightgown will simply be a pile of fabric on the floor. But isn't that the whole point of most of this lingerie, to encourage either him or her or both to want to take it off?

As she looks at the idea from that aspect, it hardly makes sense to put it on in the first place. Yet she's already seen the affect it had on her. It definitely encourages thoughts of an intimate nature by the way it was designed and the materials used. She's still in awe of how the fabric of the gown she wore last night so easily and sensuously molded itself to her body. He wouldn't have needed to take it off to feel every bump and crevice of her body.

As one part of her mind pursues that idea, another part tries to steer her thoughts away, with the result being that she's only half tempted to put the gown back on and model it for him. Since she decides this is getting to be too much, she gets up and goes to the kitchen for a drink. When she sees that he's fallen asleep, she heads to the library and indulges in a safer passion. She stands in the main intersection of the library aisles for a little while then starts to think about some of the things she's been curious about in the past.

One thing which stands out in her mind was her interest in the culture of the people where she had spent her engineering internship with her grandfather. She remembers them as an honest and quietly friendly, but private people. Considering some of the unusual books she's already seen in his collection, she decides to look to see if he does have any books about that culture. His books on cultures aren't extensive, but they're world spanning. As she starts at the end of the row, she notices that some titles are descriptive enough, but with others she has to open the book to find out which culture or cultures are the subject of the book. Since she's unsure of what his organizational basis is for the category, she feels she needs to look at each one.

That next one looks familiar, but with the public library stickers including 'Discarded', plastered along the spine of the book, the author and part of the title are covered up. As she pulls it out from the shelf, she sees that it's her grandmother's book and right next to it is the second edition. He might be interested in some background information. She leaves them on the shelf, but obviously sticking out and continues on. A little later, she finds a book which contains a small section about the culture she's interested in and a couple of books later, an entire book about them although it's a rather thin volume. She pulls the books off of the shelf, along with her grandmother's in both editions, goes to the love seat, sits down next to George, and starts to read.

* * * * *

It's about an hour later when George stirs and then in a little while, he seems to suddenly wake up. After he gets up, he leans over, says, "Hello love," kisses her forehead, "I'll be back shortly," and goes down the hall. A couple of minutes later, he goes to the kitchen, gets a drink, comes back to the love seat, sits down, and asks, "What'cha reading?"

Sharlene tells him a little more about her year as an engineering intern working on projects with her grandfather and how she had been interested in the people's culture, but hadn't done any real research other than ask some of the people questions about their culture. She points to her grandmother's book and says, "I was surprised to see you have two editions of this book."

He explains, "Normally, I don't have more than one. I had the first edition so I did a quick glance to see if the author explained the reason behind the second edition. Usually a second edition contains corrections or maybe a little updated information. I was surprised to find that the second edition contained a comparison of Western Sector cultural and religious activities with those of cultures from around the world. I don't think I've read the whole book, but it was interesting how many cultures around the world have very many similarities.

"I thought the author did a good job of explaining cultural details in a way which was more easily understood than many other sociology books I've looked through. The way the author wrote made it sound like they had firsthand information about the cultures which is unusual in an ivory tower scholar who seldom leaves the office. I'll admit I'm guessing at the last part because the note about the author seemed somewhat vague compared to the detail in the book."

"She would like what you say about her book. The reason for the vague note about the author is that she didn't want people to dismiss the book because she didn't have the academic credentials to 'validate' her research."

He looks at her in surprise and asks, "You've met the author?"

Sharlene chuckles before she answers, "I would hope so, she's my grandmother."

His eyes open wider before he says, "Your grandmother? Fascinating. So 'Lakota' must have been her maiden name."

"Actually it's her tribal name, but, yes, the first edition was written before she met and married my grandfather."

"So, I'm assuming that her firsthand information about those other cultures really was first hand. Hold it. You told me your grandparents started a construction and consulting company which worked primarily in disadvantaged areas. So while on a construction project, she would talk to the local people about their culture and write it up. Then she connected it with what she had already written about the Western Sector cultures."

Sharlene nods her head and says, "That's right."

"I understand that some of those cultures are rather hesitant to talk about their customs because when it's written up, the author usually twists things in one direction or another, most often in a way which makes the culture under discussion look like misguided savages, rather than a people with a rich cultural heritage. So, how did your grandmother succeed where so many others failed?"

"She showed them what she had already done with her own and neighboring cultures. Most of the time, there was a lot of translation involved, but when they understood the respect with which she wrote about cultures, they would often fall all over themselves to talk to her and, in a manner of speaking, get the real story out. As time went by, her reputation preceded her and people often sought her out."

"I must be missing something. Why would she be on a construction project when she was studying different cultures?"

"She was usually the engineer on the project who studied the cultures on the side."

"It's somewhat unusual for a person to be interested in cultures and engineering. What kind of engineering did she do and which led to the other?"

"While she was traveling around the Western Sector to learn about her own disappearing cultural heritage and that of neighboring cultures, she was continually dismayed at the failing infrastructure she saw everywhere she went. After she had done her research, one of her tribal elders encouraged her to write it up as a book which she hesitantly did. Once she had documented her cultural heritage, she wanted to do something practical for her people so she went to college and earned a civil engineering degree to design better and longer lasting infrastructure while trying to keep the cost as low as possible."

"That's excellent. I guess I hadn't put all the pieces together when you told me about your heritage. So, while she was working on improving the practical element of people's lives with better infrastructure, she expanded her interest in her own cultural heritage to include that of the other people she came in contact with."

"That's right. You know, George, you made a good extrapolation there with only a few pieces of information. I still have to wonder what kind of person you would have been if you had had more encouragement when you were younger."

He shrugs his shoulders then says, "Sometimes I used to wonder about that, but it's useless speculation since we can't go back and start over. And if we could go back and start over, would we be allowed to remember anything to avoid making the same mistakes all over again? I doubt it."

"Regardless of what you might have been, I really like who you are now," she sets her books down, turns, sits on his upper legs, and tells him, "especially when you hold and cuddle me." As his arms close around her and pull her closer to him, she says, "Mmm, yes, like this. . . . George Greyson, thank you for being a part of my life."

"Thank you, Sharlene, for letting me be a part of your life." As she snuggles closer, he rests his chin on the top of her head and they enjoy the comfort of each other's company for a long time.

"George?"

"Yes, love?"

"I think you're going to have to let me get up."

"Why's that?"

"My bladder seems to think that it deserves some attention."

He releases her as he proclaims, "Let it not be said that I stood in the way of a bladder and the fulfillment of its destiny."

A couple of minutes later, she's back and asks, "Do you think it's too late to start on your garden?"

"No. There's no timetable. We can have dinner whenever we want. Oops! I'm sorry, I haven't even thought about something for dinner."

"Don't we have some left over pizza from dinner on sixth-day?"

"You're right. Would that be okay with you?"

"Of course."

"Then that's settled. I suppose I should have checked the fridge before I started to panic. Maybe after dinner, we can plan out a menu for the rest of the week and be prepared."

"That sounds good. Come, my wonderful man, show me your garden."

For the next couple of hours or so, they play with Molly and go through his garden to pull any weeds, harvest those items which are ripe, and give it a good watering. He shows her where he cleans and trims the harvested vegetables and greens and puts the discarded portions in the compost. They make sure the garden dirt is brushed off of themselves, take the cleaned produce into the house, make a large salad, and enjoy some of it with the reheated pizza for dinner.

* * * * *

2147-08-32 (e)

After dinner, as they determine what's available to fix into meals or heat up as already prepared meals, she's pleasantly surprised at how well organized and stocked his freezer and pantry are, even as she realizes it shouldn't surprise her. It doesn't take them long to decide on a few meals, including when to have the probable leftovers so when they go back to Sharlene's, they don't leave anything to spoil or little which needs to be taken with them.

When they're done, Sharlene asks, "George, did you happen to bring that book along you were reading to me?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Will you read some more to me?"

"Assuming I brought it, of course. I'm guessing I set it down in my bedroom. . . . Here we go. Let me get a drink."

"Where do you want me to sit?"

"Wherever you like, but in my jaded opinion, the closer you are the better it is." He sets his drink on the small table next to the love seat, sits down, and she's quickly sitting on his upper legs and snuggled up to him.

"Is this close enough?"

He kisses her forehead and the top of her head then tells her, "If you were any closer, I would be reading you instead of the book."

"Mmm, that sounds like fun, but I'll resist the temptation for now. Uh, you might want to start back a chapter or so. I was kind of distracted while you were caressing my legs."

"You're not the only one."

Since she's somewhat puzzled by his statement, she asks, "What do you mean?

"I know I was reading words, but my attention was much more on your lovely legs, so I don't remember a thing of what I was reading."

"I can see that if I want you to read, I'm going to have to resist the temptation of pursuing that thought. I don't know, old man, you're making me set aside an awful lot of good temptations."

"Misery loves company, my temptress." After a moment or two during which he receives no response from her, he begins to read out loud. With occasional pauses to sip his drink, he reads for better than an hour when he starts to stumble over words and pauses for yawns. He puts the bookmark in where he stopped reading, sets the book aside, and admits, "I'm sorry, my lady, I can't seem to keep my eyes open."

"That's alright, George, you've had a busy day." She gets up, holds out her hands, and suggests, "Come, love, let's get you tucked into bed." A few minutes later, he's settled in bed with a long good night kiss and soon falls asleep with a dreamy smile.

Sharlene steps out of his bedroom and as she gently closes the door, she feels a sense of relief that George did get tired. She liked listening to him read and it was an interesting book, but while she was sitting so close to him, with his arms around her, even smelling him, it was all she could do, to not insist that he start touching her more. She had even caught herself playing with the buttons on both of their shirts.

She takes a quick tour of the house to make sure the doors are locked, rinses out his glass, and sits down where he was sitting. As she rereads the last few paragraphs of what he had read to her, she realizes she must have been paying more attention to what he was reading after all. After she sets down the book he was reading, she scoots over on the love seat and reads some more out of the books she had picked out. She thinks about what she had experienced among the people of that culture and compares it to what she has just read and concludes that one of the authors didn't have a clue while the other seemed to do a good job of describing the culture and treating its people with respect. She sets the books aside, gets up, and wanders around the house while she feels somewhat restless.

Sharlene gets another box of lingerie, takes it to the 'empty' guest bedroom, and sorts through it while she makes an effort to concentrate on sizes and not on design. She has to chuckle at the packages which claim one size fits all. Either they're made out of extremely stretchy fabric or they were meant to float on someone her size and be skin tight on a larger woman. Maybe this one was somewhat accurate as she holds up a string bikini with side ties. Once the strings were tied on her, they would probably hang to her knees. As she tries to picture what that would look like dangling from beneath the short skirts some women wear, she's not sure whether it would be provocative or just plain silly looking.

She tosses it aside and, a moment later, she's surprised to realize she had just tossed it into the pile she intends to keep. The next several are identical except for the colors. Shrugging her shoulders, she adds several more in other colors to her pile and spreads the rest into the other piles. The next group are similar, but instead of tying on both sides, they have a single tie right in front in an opening of the fabric which the package calls a 'keyhole'. Again, she sorts these by colors, adds several to her pile and spreads the others around.

Since her curiosity is aroused, she goes to the library and after she searches for a little while, she finds the dictionary. Or, to be more accurate, she finds dictionaries since he has several; dictionaries in standard, dictionaries in foreign languages, cross-language dictionaries, and dictionaries of specialized subjects. A couple of moments later, she chuckles to herself as she wonders how he would respond if she expressed disappointment that he doesn't have a dictionary of lingerie terms, maybe an illustrated one. On second thought, she'd better not ask him because he would want her to be the model. As she looks in the standard dictionaries, the definitions of 'keyhole' don't quite fit how the lingerie package seems to be using the word. Maybe she'll have to ask George if he understands how the term 'keyhole' is being used.

After she puts the dictionaries away, she goes back to her sorting project and sets one of the 'keyhole' packages aside to help her remember to ask him. When she finishes that box, she's somewhat surprised at how much she's set aside for herself. Then she reminds herself that he said to take what she wants because he'll give the rest away so she makes the effort to set aside the little bit of selfish guilt which had tried to raise its head. As she thinks about it some more, she realizes that the more she keeps, the more she has available to share with him when she's ready to start modeling it for him, or, more accurately, when he's prepared to see her model the lingerie. And that thought leads her to realize that compared to a few weeks ago, her desire for him to see her, to see all of her, has been growing.

She was quite willing to undress for him after brushing Molly this morning. And when he gave her pleasure this morning on the love seat, although she had to touch herself, she would have willingly left the bathrobe open, if he hadn't specifically asked her to close it. She absolutely knows that he wants to look at her and touch her more. Not only has he clearly said it, but she can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, and even feel it in his touch. Yet, somehow, from somewhere, he finds the strength to resist his own desires as well as her temptations. She can only shake her head in amazement.

Although he fears losing control, she seriously doubts that he would become violent or abusive. Most likely, he would gently go further than he intended. Instead of stopping at her knee, his hands would slide under her skirt all the way up her legs. Instead of pulling up the bottom of her shirt to kiss two inches of her abdomen, he would unbutton her shirt and kiss her all over. She's about to start clamping down on her thoughts then stops for a moment and decides to let them flow. Maybe if she releases more of her sexual tension, she'll be less pushy with him.

Sharlene quickly gets up, grabs her pajamas out of the guest bedroom, and takes then with her to the guest bathroom. She closes the door then closes her eyes and slowly unbuttons her shirt while she imagines that he's the one who is undoing one button at a time. Then his imaginary hands open her bra and briefly caress her breasts.

When she opens her pants, she imagines it's his hands which are doing it while his lips kiss her abdomen. As she pushes her panty down with her pants, she imagines that his lips are kissing her down her legs. After she takes several deep breaths, she sets her clothes aside.

She steps over to the bathtub and as she bends over to turn on the water, she imagines that his hands are sliding up the backs of her legs, over her buttocks, across her back, and around to her front. While one of her hands holds onto the side of the tub, she imagines that her other hand is his two hands as they touch her breasts, caress down her abdomen, and slip between her legs. As she cries out in pleasure, she almost falls head first into the bathtub.

After she mentally kicks herself for getting so caught up in her imagination, she slowly stands up, ties up her hair on top of her head, then sits down in the bathtub. She had better wait for George to do what she imagined him doing, since he might keep enough sense about him to catch her before she falls and cracks her head open. Based on the way he's touched her so far, she's almost sure that how she imagines him touching her won't be much different than how he will touch her with his slightly roughened hands so gently caressing her, his soft lips surrounded by a slightly bristly mustache and soft beard kissing and nuzzling her.

She feels somewhat safer to be sitting in the bathtub and as she starts to wash herself, she imagines that he's scrubbing her back, which would feel so good, then her sides. As he pulls her close to his bare body, his hands gently wash her abdomen, she moans in response, back up her sides to wash her arms, and back down her arms to even wash her armpits. After washing her neck, she imagines his hands slowly move down her chest to circle her breasts and spiral in to slide two fingers along the sides of each of her erect nipples and gently squeeze while her groan of pleasure almost becomes a cry of climax.

As she pants for breath, she can almost feel him lift her onto his extended legs, gently move her legs to the outsides of his legs as he reaches around one side of her and then the other to wash her thighs. She imagines that his soapy hands are sliding up the insides of her thighs until they can go no further then he gently washes her pubic hair all around her vulva. When his imaginary hands begin to wash the top of her vulva, she climaxes with a cry and leans back onto the tub, expecting him to be there.

Since she's startled out of her expectation, Sharlene sits back up and asks, "George, where are you when I want you?" But she knows perfectly well where he is and why he's there. Can his touching feel so good? It has so far. Was her imagination of his touching possible or practical or is she building up such a high level of expectation that he can't possibly meet it? She really doesn't know.

Maybe instead of her imagining that he's touching her and being disappointed to realize he isn't there, she ought to just touch herself and bring herself pleasure. Sooner or later she'll have to, unless she finds some substitute to fill in for him when he's unable or unavailable. While she shudders at the thought, she can't imagine someone else touching her so gently and as caringly as he does. She holds up her soapy hands and tells them, "It's up to you two." With that, she reaches down and washes her pubic area and buttocks. It doesn't send waves of pleasure through her like it did when she imagined it was George who was washing her, but it feels good, very very good. The kind of feeling to spend time luxuriating in, rather than climbing mountains.

She's going to have to try to remember to do this again when she's wearing her headband. When she starts to feel a little tired, she stops washing herself and rinses off and is even able to dry herself fairly normally. As she puts her pajamas on, she wonders what she did with her headband and is surprised to see that she's still wearing it as she lets her hair down. Although she's curious as to what the recording will show about tonight's adventure, and last night's, and this morning's, her body seems to say, you've played enough, it's time for sleep. As she gets settled in the guest bed, she's asleep before she can question whether she'll be lonely by herself there.

* * * * *

2147-08-33 (n>m1)

Late in the night, George wakes up then gets up to relieve his insistent bladder. Afterwards, he opens his bedroom door, sees that the lights are turned off, and assumes that Sharlene has gone to sleep in the guest bedroom, but it's too dark to see. At least he hopes she didn't pack up and leave after he went to bed. Or maybe it's all been a fantastic dream which he's just now waking up from. As he settles back in bed, he misses her warm body cuddled up to his side or his back. Whatever the case, it's probably best for her not to be here, real or imaginary, since he's having trouble controlling his desire for her. He's quite sure he won't abuse her, but he doesn't want to push her beyond what she might be prepared for. Before he can think about it anymore, he falls asleep.

* * * * *

When Sharlene wakes up, she's disappointed she's not cuddled up to George. As she becomes more aware of her surroundings, she realizes she can't blame him for the situation. Just a few hours ago, she was tightly cuddled up to him while she sat on his upper legs and already she misses him. What's she going to do if he doesn't want to go back to the city with her? She reminds herself to not think about that since he's already said he wants to be with her and that he needs to live one day at a time.

She gets out of bed and goes to the guest bathroom. As she comes out, she gently opens the door to his bedroom. She recognizes he's asleep so she carefully crawls into his bed, snuggles up to his back, drapes her left arm over his side and across his upper abdomen, relaxes, and soon falls asleep.

* * * * *

While neither of them is sure whose stirring wakes the other, Sharlene scoots back just a little as George rolls onto his back, lifts his left arm, she slips in under it, he lays it across her back, and pulls her close while she lays her head on his shoulder, moves her left arm across his chest, and pulls herself closer.

"Morning, angel," he caresses her back with his left hand, "you feel real enough."

"Why wouldn't I feel real?"

"Last night when I woke up, I wondered if you were just a fantastic dream which I was just waking up from."

"Then you have a fantastic imagination, because I sure enjoy you touching me. Do you normally cause figments of your imagination to feel so good?"

"Until you appeared in my life neither real nor imaginary women wanted me to touch them."

"Their loss is my gain. They don't know what they're missing and I have no intention of telling them."

As he becomes aware that she's unbuttoning his pajama top, he asks, "Are you doing that intentionally?"

"Yes, I am. I'm not trying to push your limits. I want to listen to your heart and I want to touch your chest."

"Young lady, as I'm getting healthier, you being in bed with me is almost pushing my limits. I'll admit though, that when I woke up last night, I missed you not being close to me."

"When I first woke up this morning, I was disappointed I wasn't being cuddled by you. Now be quiet for a moment while I listen to your heart." She pulls open his now unbuttoned pajama top, moves her hair out of the way, and lays her ear on his chest above his heart. After she moves her head a couple of times to listen to his heart from different angles, she lays her head back on his shoulder, pats his chest where her head had lain, pulls the blankets back up, slips her left arm back across his chest, and informs him, "Your heart sounds real good."

"You're not bothered by what it says?"

"What do you think it's saying?"

"Want you, want you, want you."

She chuckles then says, "I think some other part of your anatomy a little lower down is saying that."

"That, too."

"So, George, what other parts of your anatomy are saying they want me?"

"My head, my lips, my tongue, my shoulders, my chest, my arms, my hands, my legs, every part. Even my toes, they just haven't figured out how to express themselves yet."

Sharlene laughs then says, "For being so unromantic, you do have interesting ways of letting a girl know she's wanted."

"Most females want to be romantically swept off of their feet, not lusted after."

"George, if all you felt for me was lust, you would have had my clothes off of me weeks ago. I know you desire my body, that you lust for me, or however else you want to say it, but there's a lot more to you than that. And I deeply appreciate it. By the same token, I'm deeply selfish and desire your touch, even lust for you to touch me and give me pleasure.

"I know you think there's nothing attractive about your body, but let me fill you in on a little secret, even if you had the physique of a Greek god, you wouldn't get me excited or desirous. I've seen plenty of men who other women virtually drool over and my reaction is, it's a human male, so what? But when I look at you, all I want to do is to be in your arms, to touch you, and to feel you touch me.

"You've often questioned why I want you in my life. To be honest, I don't think I can explain why, but I'm absolutely positive that it's more than me circumstantially having my first sexual experience in your pickup. I can joyfully list your wonderful attributes, like your caring, your generosity, your gentleness, your creativity, your intelligence, your respect, and your touching. All of those are elements, and I'm immensely grateful for every one of them.

"There's something else about you, some indefinable quality of who you are which ties all of those elements into an extremely desirable package. From the first day I met you, I've been comfortable in your presence. And the longer I'm in your presence, the more comfort and enjoyment I find here. To me, you're a very desirable man. Not only because I desire you, but I also desire how you desire me. Does that make sense? I don't care. George, to put it simply, I want you and I want you to stay with me. Period."

He has to pause to think of a response, "Thank you, my lady. You can't imagine how much it means to me that you want me and want me to stay with you. Thank you." He gently lifts her head from his shoulder so he can warmly and tenderly kisses her for as long as he's able to.

After he gently lowers her head then drops his own head back in order to start breathing again, she responds, "Mmm, that was nice. Thank you." As she lightly caresses his bare chest with her left hand, she suggests, "I think I'm going to have to get up soon or I'm going to have an even harder time of not expressing my desire for you in actions instead of just words."

"That's probably . . . a good idea."

She gives him a more passionate kiss, but forces herself to keep it short and then she feels like she has to tear herself away to get out of his bed and swiftly leave the room. Quickly, she closes the door to his room and then closes the door to the guest bedroom and as she leans back on it, she's surprised at how much she wants to charge back into his room. Apparently, pleasing herself last night didn't hold the desire at bay for very long. Maybe if she's in a less suggestive environment than snuggled up to his half naked body in bed it will help her to calm down.

Starting from there, she works at redirecting her thoughts into less provoking directions and calms down enough to get dressed in her plain underwear, long sleeve shirt, and pants. As she steps out of the guest bedroom, she sees that his bedroom door is open and when she looks in, she sees that his bathroom door is open also, which, she guesses, means that he's probably in the kitchen. She walks down the hall and as she steps around the corner, she sees him put the kettle on the stove and turn it on.

When he turns away from the stove, he sees her and asks, "Do you want some tea? I'm going to make some iced tea, but there should be enough water for a couple of mugs of hot tea too."

"I always did like a mug of tea in the morning. Of course, when I was going to school, I had to leave it until the weekends so I could relax and enjoy it."

"It was the same for me, or I would have some in the evening, to try to wind down."

"When I was studying, I usually didn't leave enough time in an evening to do that. So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"I was thinking of cutting the grass. Normally I can get it done at an easy pace in an hour or so, but since it's thicker this time and I'm weaker, I think I'll spread it out and take longer breaks so it will probably take most of the day."

"Can I help?"

"Have you used a lawn mower before?"

"I was never allowed to when I was younger. I would be interested in trying."

"Then I'll let you try. Warning, think about what you wear since your clothes and shoes will probably get some grass stains. Despite the claims of many laundry detergents, grass stains don't always come out. Oh, and set out a bathrobe or a change of clothes in the laundry room. When we're done, we can take turns and change so we don't track bits of grass through the house."

"If it's going to take most of the day, what do we do about lunch and bathroom trips?"

"The laundry room has a bathroom and the garage does too."

"That's right, I forgot."

"That's okay. For lunch, I can either make up lunch ahead of time and leave it in the laundry room or we can change for lunch and after lunch change back into the grassy clothes."

She steps up close, restricts herself to kiss him on the cheek, and proclaims, "Smart man."

"Well, grab a mug and we'll get the hot tea first. If there's not enough for making the iced tea, I can always heat some more water."

She pours hot water into her mug and as she puts the tea bag in, she asks, "Wasn't there an old song about two people having tea."

He briefly looks at her before he answers, "Yes."

"What's with the strange look?"

"It's funny you should mention that song."

"Why, what's it say?"

"If I recall correctly, it starts out, 'Tea for two and two for tea, just me for you and you for me.' I don't remember the rest."

She repeats the words in her head then steps up close, hugs him and says, "I like that, 'just me for you and you for me.' Maybe that ought to be our theme song."

"You probably ought to look at the rest of the words first."

"Do you have it?"

"I think I have a copy of it in one of my piano books or maybe you can find it online."

"Can we look while the tea brews?"

Without verbally answering, he takes her hand, walks with her to the music section of his library, and pulls out a half dozen piano books. "I think it's in one of these." A few moments later, he finds it, says, "Here it is," and holds it out to her. He watches her follow the melody while she reads the words then suggests, "Why don't you fix your tea then go play it on the piano while I throw something together for breakfast?"

"You don't want help with breakfast?"

"I don't need help with breakfast and I enjoy hearing you play."

"Okay."

* * * * *

2147-08-33 (m2>a1)

Sharlene takes the book George hands her and another which she was looking at and puts them on the piano bench then fixes her tea. After she enjoys a few swallows of tea, she goes to the piano, plunks out the simple melody and is soon playing it. She plays the song a couple of more times then starts trying out and playing a few other songs in the book. Soon, she's so caught up in her playing, he has to touch her shoulder between songs before she's aware he's been trying to get her attention.

"You play very nice and I would like to keep enjoying it, but I don't want your breakfast to get cold."

She stands up, hugs him, and tells him, "Thank you."

He hugs her a little more firmly, lifts her off of her feet, and swings her about a half turn.

"George!! You do know how to sweep a girl off of her feet."

"I think something more than physical is meant by that idea."

"You've already swept me off of my feet by the other meaning. The physical way is fun too, especially when you're hugging me to do it."

"Come and eat before I want to do more than just hug you."

"Hungry." She lets him think the word only applies to breakfast.

When they're finished cleaning up after breakfast, George suggests that Sharlene might want to play the piano while he gets the lawn mower ready, but she expresses an interest in learning how to do that too, so, after they put a change of clothes in the laundry room, they go to the garden shed and he gets the lawn mower and other things ready, while he explains what he's doing and why. In a few minutes, he cuts a couple of swaths to demonstrate and then lets her try, while he walks with her. The need to go slow is soon obvious due to the thickness of the grass.

As she thinks about other people she's seen mow their yards, she remembers that many of them had riding mowers. It would be faster, but pushing the mower makes it harder to go too fast and it's a steady exercise which is good for working the muscles. It doesn't take her long to discover that some of her muscles have to work in unfamiliar ways. By taking turns and resting for extended periods on the back porch, they're about three quarters of the way done when they decide it's time for lunch and a longer break. She quickly changes, turns the laundry room over to him and while he more slowly changes, she prepares a simple lunch.

After lunch, he rests on the sofa to watch and listen to her play the piano while she tries out songs she's heard about, but had never had the music in front of her in order to play them. When she decides her fingers have had a sufficient workout, she sits down next to him while she holds his hand and it's not long before he drifts off to sleep in the quiet. For awhile, she just sits there and enjoys his presence.

A little later, as she thinks she ought to do something productive, she gets up, checks her phone and her email, then downloads her emotional recordings. While she makes notes about what was happening during each emotional hit, she's pleasantly surprised that last night's adventure in the bathtub came through just fine. Even when she's touching herself and doing her best to not imagine it's him touching her, her recording is clean, it's just not as intense as when she imagines he's touching her. In fact, the coloration is a little off from her normal intimate pleasure.

As she goes back through her past recordings, she finds it interesting to notice that the emotional recording from when she touched herself last night carries a twinge of the color from her 'all's right with the world' feeling when she kissed him on that first sixth-day. When she reviews the general statistics related to her emotional recordings, she's surprised that her general background level of feeling, even taking out the intense hits, is running more than double the intensity of what she had recorded before she met him. She puts her computer away, checks the time, checks on him, and decides to let him sleep for awhile longer.

She goes to the 'lingerie sorting room' and decides that maybe she ought to box up the piles she's made to reduce the mess. She starts to re-box the pieces which she's keeping, stops, briefly thinks about it, then takes them back out of the box, divides them into two piles, one to stay here and one to take to her place, and puts them back in boxes. While she fills the boxes, she makes notations on the outside of each box to briefly list the contents. When she notices she has a little more time before she ought to wake him up to finish cutting the grass, she moves the rest of the boxes from the guest bedroom to the 'sorting' room. When she has things straightened out to her satisfaction, she picks up the 'tie-in-the-front keyhole' panty and goes to wake him.

Sharlene sets the panty on the love seat, kneels on the sofa while she straddles his legs, and sits on his knees. A moment later, she picks up George's hands and guides them up and down the fronts and outsides of her legs. A couple of moments later, she leans over him and begins to kiss his neck and earlobes. Soon, his hands are clearly moving of their own accord up the outsides of her legs, over the outsides of her hips, up her sides a little ways, and back down. It's hard to tell from whom the "mmm" of pleasure is coming.

When he's awake enough to speak, he tells her, "You have the most wonderful ways of waking a man up that I've ever heard of or even imagined. Maybe you can marry some king and be the real power behind the throne."

"My royal highness, what new decrees do you wish to proclaim to your loyal subjects?"

"With you next to me, I wouldn't want to be a king, it would take too much time away from you."

"Then I have no interest in being the power behind the throne. The only power I'm interested in having is the power to excite you and bring you pleasure."

"You certainly have that. I don't remember ever being as frequently and almost continuously excited as I am with you."

"I'm glad," and she demonstrates her power by kissing him. Then she has to force herself to sit back up so she can give him an opportunity to catch his breath. When his breathing has mostly settled so he'll be able to respond, she says, "I have a question regarding a definition or description." When he nods, she reaches over and picks up the panty and watches as his eyes pop open in surprise. She savors his expression for a little while before she clarifies, "No, I wasn't showing you this to excite you, although from your expression you're already trying to imagine how I would look with this on."

He drops his head in embarrassment before he barely nods his head in agreement.

She lifts his head up for a quick kiss and assures him, "I don't mind you imagining me wearing this and maybe someday we'll see how close your imagination comes to reality. Actually, I hadn't even thought about how I would feel to wear something like this. I had a question about this descriptive word 'keyhole'. I even looked it up in the dictionary, but that didn't really clarify why it would be used to describe a style of panty. Do you know why a word like 'keyhole' would be used to describe this?"

He sits for a moment in thought then says, "I was trying to remember if I have the right kind of lock to demonstrate, but I don't think so. I'll probably have to make a rough sketch. Regretfully, I need to ask you to move."

"Okay. Where are we going?"

"The library." He leads her to his desk where he points out his various office type supplies in case she ever has a need for any as well as a large stack of scratch paper. He starts to draw a shape then stops and says, "Better yet, let me make a two dimensional sample." He quickly cuts a hole in the paper to resemble an old style keyhole then explains, "When locks and keys were first made, they were fairly large and clumsy. A keyhole looked something like this although it was quite a bit smaller. A key which looked something like this," he quickly draws an outline, "would be inserted into the lock and turned to lock or unlock a door. The difference is that with those old locks, you could look through the keyhole into the room beyond," and he holds up the cutout to his eye.

"The term 'keyhole' then became generalized to mean something like a hole in what would normally be a solid object, especially in a way which could be considered revealing. I think the most frequent use of the term these days is in women's clothing, whether the hole is less than an inch across or six inches long and often doesn't reveal much more than just a little bit more skin." As he points at the panty she's holding, he continues, "This 'keyhole' is more strategically placed than most, but if a man is seeing a woman revealing all of her skin except for what the panty covers, that little bit more shown by the 'keyhole' might not even be noticed."

"So you don't think the 'keyhole' adds to the enticement factor of this panty?"

"Personally, I would say that the location of the tie is more of an enticement than the 'keyhole' itself."

She looks at him in surprise then asks, "Why do you say that?"

"Think about where it's going to draw the attention of the eye?"

"Oh."

"Add to that the movement of the end of the tie brushing the insides of a woman's thighs to further draw the attention of the eye and you have a strong enticement."

"I guess somebody knew what they doing when they designed this."

"That appears to be the case."

"Thank you, George, for the explanation." Sharlene leans forward but doesn't succeed in keeping her kiss brief. When she lets him have an opportunity to breathe, she says, "We'd better go finish cutting the grass," while she adds to herself, "before I ask you to help me try the panty on."

In a few more minutes, they're back in the yard and after they take turns and have a couple of rest periods, the grass is cut and they clean up the yard and the equipment and put it away. After another rest, instead of going into the house as she expects, he takes her hand and walks her most of the way down his long driveway and explains that if they let most of the grass clippings which are on their clothes dry out, the cut grass will either fall off or be more easily brushed off.

Then walk back up the driveway and he leads her to the garage where he picks up two whisk brooms, hands one to her and quickly brushes the grass clippings from his pants and boots. While she's brushing off the backs of her thighs, he grabs a pad, drops it on the ground in front of her, kneels down on the pad, and begins to brush off the front of her lower left leg. Since she quickly discovers that using one of these little brooms takes some getting used to, she turns and lets him brush off the backs of her lower legs also, then turns again to let him finish brushing off the front of her lower right leg.

* * * * *

2147-08-33 (a2)

After a little while, she realizes that he's no longer brushing off her lower legs, but is caressing them with his hands which are slowly going up and down. She starts to enjoy his touch then feels a flush of embarrassment at them being outside while she's being touched. She quickly looks around but doesn't see anyone except her and George, even Molly has gone somewhere. Since she guesses he knows what he's doing, she relaxes and enjoys his caresses which are going up the insides of her calves and driving her pleasure upwards as though his hands are tracing the line on an intensity graph.

When his hands reach her knees they leave her lower legs and move to the fronts of her legs. After a momentary pause, his hands begin to caress up and down the fronts of her legs from her knees to the middle of her thighs. With each up and down movement, his hands begin the next up movement a little further towards the outsides of her legs and as his hands continue to caress up and down her legs they slowly move onto the backs of her legs. As she remembers how he pleased her before with very similar touching, she braces her hands on his shoulders, presses her lower abdomen to his chest, and lets her hums and moans express the pleasure which begins to take her away.

Instead of stopping along the backs of her legs as he did before, his hands continue to caress her from her knees to the middle of her thighs up and down toward the insides of her legs which turns her moans into groans of pleasure. When his hands are fully on the insides of her thighs at her knees, with his arms mostly wrapped around her legs and his head leaning on her upper abdomen, as his hands go up her legs while she slightly rocks her hips, she throws her head back and somehow holds on and lets the pleasure build just to the cusp of climax. When his hands slowly go down her inner thighs, past her knees, and down her calves, she feels like she's achieved some control which is lost when his hands relatively quickly slide up the insides of her calves, knees, and thighs and drive her cry of climax out ahead of them.

When his hands are back down at her knees, he moves his right hand to pull the bottom of her shirt up out of her pants and begins to kiss her just above her pants waistband. A little later, he moves his hands back to her knees where they begin to slowly caress her legs from the outside to the inside and back, up a little, from the outside to the inside and back. Using her left hand, she lifts her shirt further up so his lips can kiss and his tongue can lightly caress her upper abdomen.

As his hands continue their slow pleasure building climb up her legs, her breathing turns to pants while she's barely able to move her right hand to the back of his head to support herself as well as to encourage his kisses. Since her pleasure is almost ready to peak, she lifts her head up and back, her hips thrust forward to press herself more tightly to him, his hands grip the innermost portion of the middle of her thighs, she holds herself for just a moment, then his tongue slips under the waistband of her pants and her cry spews forth in joyous pleasure and a different part of his anatomy spews forth its own non-verbal cry of joyous pleasure.

While his breath is panting on the bare skin of her upper abdomen, he considers caressing her thighs some more, but discovers he's tired enough that his hands which are gripping her inner thighs don't want to move. Or maybe his hands have decided they really want to stay right where they are. It takes awhile before their breathing settles down and a little energy begins to reanimate their bodies.

"Oh, George, that was so wonderful. Thank you."

He mutters something and doesn't even know or care what it is while his thoughts seem to be centered on how wonderful it is to be holding her inner thighs, so close to more interesting locales, and with his head pressed tightly to the bare skin of her upper abdomen and is so close to other interesting places. While he reminds himself to be patient, he realizes he probably doesn't have the energy to do anything more right now anyway.

As he holds onto the insides of her thighs and breaths in the scent of her bare skin, it's awhile before he can force himself to move. When he pulls his hands around the backs of her legs, he doesn't seem to notice the shiver of pleasure which goes through her. He slides his hands up the outsides of her legs, rests them just above her hips for a moment then tightens his grip a little to brace himself as he slowly gets off of his knees.

Since he's concentrating on straightening his legs and standing up, he doesn't hear her indrawn breath at the pleasure she feels when his nose and chin seem to slide up her abdomen, over her hand which is holding the bottom of her shirt up, between her breasts and up to her neck where his head tilts to the left and he begins to kiss her neck while he pulls her hips closer to him. She quickly releases her shirt, pulls her left hand out from between them, slides it around to his back, and adds her own effort to pull their bodies closer. At the same time, his right hand slides along her bare skin from above her waist to around her back. Because her right hand is still behind his head, she turns her head to the right which causes his kisses to go from her neck across her jaw to her lips which hungrily latch on to his.

While he leans over her and matches his own hungry kiss with hers, he automatically moves his right leg forward a step to maintain his balance while her right leg just as automatically moves backwards a half of a step. That movement in combination with their arms pulling to keep their bodies close causes their bodies to shift off center from each other which results in their left legs being between the other's legs. When he breaks the kiss to breathe, she's the first to recognize their new position and begins to swivel her hips in order to slide her pubic area across his upper thigh. Her pleasure swiftly builds, then increases when his left hand, which is still on her bare skin above her hip, and his right arm along her back encourage her hip movement.

Since all she wants to do is to be even closer to him, she slides her left leg up between his legs. When she hears his gasp of pleasure and feels his legs spread a little in invitation, she intends to slide her leg further in between his legs, but the change of her leg's position has changed how her pubic area is sliding across his thigh. Without even thinking about it, she clamps her left foot behind his left knee and while his right arm holds her tightly to him, she briefly grinds herself onto his thigh before she cries out with no longer contained climactic pleasure. Because it feels like her body is ready to collapse, she quickly drops her left leg and puts it down a little behind her to brace herself on his body while she pants for breath as though she just completed a vigorous workout, but one which never felt so wonderful.

While her body still quivers with pleasure as she waits for her breathing to settle, he marvels that she could feel her own sexual release so soon again and feels a twinge of jealousy that her female body allows it. He knows that if his body didn't require recovery time, he would have certainly joined her in climax. A little later when his breathing has settled enough, he tells her, "Thank you, my lady, for getting an old man all excited."

"You got me all excited. What glorious pleasure. Thank you, my man, thank you. One of these days I'm going to get you all excited without it being a side effect of you getting me all excited. I don't know how you do it, but whatever it is, I want you to keep doing it. Oh, George, just thinking about you touching me, I want you to do it all over again or do more, but I don't think either of us has the energy for it."

"I would love to touch you again or more, my hands and arms and the rest of me is certainly willing, but I don't think I can lift my hands for more than a brief caress or two."

"Considering how your touch excites me and how sensitive I seem to be for awhile afterwards, a couple of caresses might be more than I can handle."

"We'd better go get something to eat and drink before we collapse into a couple of shapeless blobs." They carefully disentangle themselves and start to shakily walk then quickly grab onto each other for support. As though they're mismatched Siamese twins joined at the side, they make their way across the yard. When they reach the back porch, he points to the laundry room door, says, "Ladies, first," and slowly lowers himself onto the lounge chair.

She goes in, carefully changes her clothes then goes to the kitchen, fixes a drink and a sandwich and rather quickly devours them. She's ready to fix a sandwich for him, but when he doesn't appear, she begins to grow concerned. A moment later when she looks out the window, she sees that he's still on the lounge chair. She races out of the house to quickly check him and when she finds a good strong pulse, she realizes he just fell asleep. As she calms down, she's aware he hadn't even budged when she checked him so she guesses he's probably going to sleep for awhile.

She considers what he's said about previous occasions and decides to try to clean up his release. After she gets a warm wet washcloth and a dry hand towel from the laundry room bathroom, she undoes his pants, and pulls the elastic waist band of his underwear down. As she lightly touches his skin, she finds that it is somewhat sticky. She washes him off as best as she can and dries him then wonders what to do about his damp underwear. Since she doesn't know for sure how nurses in hospitals and nursing homes can safely move inert bodies, nor does she have the brute strength to lift him and change his pants, there's nothing she can do about his clothes, so she closes up his pants.

As she sits there and looks at him, she still thinks his generosity is amazing and his willingness to touch her and bring her pleasure without directly being given pleasure, is unbelievable. Unbelievable? She ought to believe it, he's done it numerous times. Before she starts to dwell on how many times and how pleasurable it was each time, she goes in and rinses out the washcloth and sets it on the edge of the sink to let it dry before it gets tossed in the dirty laundry or so that it's available for him to use again.

Since she's unable to do anything more for him at the present, she goes to the kitchen, looks over their meal plan, and decides to fix the chicken soup for tonight. In spite of being in an unfamiliar kitchen, it doesn't take her long to find what she needs and in only a little more time than it would take in her own kitchen, she has a crock pot full of soup slowly cooking. She refills her drink, grabs a book, and goes to the back porch to relax on the other lounge chair and keep an eye on him.

* * * * *

2147-08-33 (e1)

Sharlene stifles a scream when a large furry head flops across her arm. A moment later, she proclaims, "Molly, you scared me!" After she puts her book down, she sits up and hugs Molly as she asks, "How are you, girl? I haven't seen you all day." As she answers in her own way, Molly leans on Sharlene and wags her tail so hard that half her body seems to wag with it. When Sharlene pets Molly then scratches her behind her ears, she seems to grin in doggy pleasure. After awhile, Molly dashes off with such exuberance that Sharlene can't help but grin in response.

Molly is soon back with a well-worn tennis ball and drops it into Sharlene's outstretched hand. When she tosses it up, Molly catches it in the air and has it back almost before Sharlene's arm finishes the follow through. Soon, Sharlene is out in the yard, throwing the ball for Molly, chasing her and being chased, and playing tug-of-war. Between the physical exertion and laughing, she's about ready to call it quits when Molly dashes over to the back porch and lays her head on George's leg. Before Sharlene can run over in panic, she sees George reach up and pet Molly and guesses he must have just woke up.

She slowly walks over and almost feels like an intruder on their relationship, but that thought is quickly dispelled when he holds up an arm towards her and clearly welcomes her into his embrace as she sits on his upper legs, because he gives her no room on the edge of the lounge chair, wraps his arm around her waist, and pulls her back on him. Even Molly seems to agree with Sharlene being included since she readily transfers her head from his leg to Sharlene's. He kisses the back side of her neck and the back edge of her ear, then whispers, "It was wonderful to hear you laughing and see you play with Molly."

"It's been so long, I'd forgotten how much fun it is to play with a canine."

"What happened?"

"She died. I was just a little girl, four or five years old. Natasha and I were almost inseparable. Shortly after she had a litter of pups, she died and my parents acquired another dog to step in as a surrogate mother for a time. I remember my mom used that situation as a way to describe adoption when I asked if I was adopted. I never did know why Natasha died or come to think of it, why my parents didn't keep any of her puppies as a replacement. I guess I somehow had the impression that those weren't suitable questions to ask at home. As I grew older, I would jealously watch other people play with their dogs, but when I stopped to think about it, I knew that while I was in school, I wouldn't have the time to give a dog the attention it ought to have."

"School kept you that busy?"

She nods her head then explains, "Between school and the extra-curricular activities I was involved in, yes. Even when I was in college with fewer other activities, I was taking more than a full load. In spite of that, I might have had some spare time, but I was so intent on getting high grades, that I would almost, actually there wasn't an almost about it, I would have to make time in my schedule specifically to relax. When I started my job, I had to laugh at some of my professors who had advised us to enjoy our college years because when we went to work we would have less time for fun. For me, it was the opposite. With work, I hardly knew what to do with the free time available every evening and weekend."

"Considering that background, I'm surprised you haven't gotten bored out of your gourd watching over me."

She pulls the bottom of her shirt from under his arm around her upper abdomen and caresses his arm to let him know she wants it there on her bare skin. As she enjoys his caresses, she informs him, "Old man, you have marvelous ways for keeping a girl from becoming bored. And before I start to think about how much more of my skin I want you to touch, shall I bring you out a drink or some food?"

"A drink, I think." Soon, she's back with a drink and hands it to him. After a long drink of many small swallows, he says, "Ah, thank you, my lady," and sets the drink down.

"Uh, George?"

He looks up at her as she stands next to his chair.

"I want you to know that I tried to clean up your release inside of your pants. I don't know how well I did, but I thought you ought to know."

He stares at her then asks, "You undid my pants and washed me?"

"Yes."

He almost can't believe her quick simple answer and has to pause before he can ask his next question, "And you weren't grossed out and disgusted by the mess and what you saw?"

Since she's sincerely puzzled by his question, she responds, "No. Why, should I have been?"

While he wonders why he has to explain the obvious to her, he still does, "I'm an overweight old man. There can't possibly be anything pleasant about you having to look at my run down old body."

"I admit that I had to take a rather clinical approach to washing you. But it was for the opposite reason. After I washed you, I had to restrain myself from touching you and feeling your male anatomy." When all he does is stare at her with wide eyes and open mouth, she sits on his upper legs and leans sideways onto his chest. "Yes, George, I wanted to touch you. I still want to touch you."

While he feels like he's in shock, he belatedly wraps his arms around her.

In a quiet voice, almost as though she's talking to herself, she says, "Sometimes, it's all I can do to keep from stepping up to you and taking your clothes off so I can touch you. But then I remember the journey and I remember your restraint. If you can restrain yourself from touching me so I can enjoy the journey, then how can I not do the same for you?"

For several long minutes they lay there, he in stunned silence, she in contemplation, before he's able to respond at all, "I . . . I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Just keep leading me on the journey and keep touching me. If I start to touch you before you're comparably touching me, please let me. I don't mean to push your limits, but I also want to learn how to touch you. In a way, I greatly appreciate it that you have experience so you know how to touch me and bring me to such great heights of pleasure. I also know I'm being very self-centered about this, but I really don't want to be in our first attempt at making love and have to just lay there because I don't have a clue as to how to make love to you in return."

Since he doesn't know what to say to that, it takes him awhile to be able to ask, "Um . . . are you sure?"

"Very sure. I would like to at least have a little experience in knowing how to please my man so when we do make love, it can be a sharing of pleasure. And I don't want that experience to be with anyone, but you." More minutes of silence slide by before he hears her start to chuckle, "Well, there is a little bit of clinical curiosity about my desire to touch you."

"Oh?"

"Since you've been touching me and explaining a little about the effect I have on you, I've been very curious about the functioning of the male anatomy. I've done some reading on the subject, but the dry clinical tones appear to leave out a lot of what's happening during the process. Since you've helped me to open my eyes to the whole new world of intimate pleasure as felt from the female perspective, I want you to help me understand that new world from the male perspective. You've told me a lot about things I didn't know regarding what can trigger the male sexual response. There's a lot I want to know about what happens after the initial triggering.

"George, let me be very specific. I want to touch you because I, as a woman, want to touch you, as a man. Our ages mean nothing, our physical shapes mean nothing, and our academic achievements mean nothing. We're primitive male and female. I know you want to touch me. Know too, that I want to touch you. . . . If you have too much trouble coming to terms with that idea, and I won't blame you if you do, then think of yourself as the research victim in my search for knowledge about the sexual response and activities of a human male and female."

Long minutes of silence follow before he stutters, "I . . . I'm . . . uh"

"Stunned? . . . Shocked?"

"Yes."

"Shall I get you another drink and some food to give you some time to recover from what I said?"

"Please."

A couple of minutes later, she's back out with a tray holding refilled drinks and two bowls of soup.

He takes the bowl she hands him with a murmured, "Thank you," and they eat in silence.

"Do you want more?"

"No, thank you."

Again, the silence stretches into minutes.

He asks, "Can I take some more time to think?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to shower."

As he unsteadily walks towards the laundry room with a dazed expression on his face, she almost gets up to help him, but stops herself since she's concerned she might have somehow offended him and doesn't want to push him if that's the case. As she cleans up after their meal, she realizes he didn't look or act offended. He looked more like his world had been turned upside down. Did what she say so contradict his status quo? She tries to remember what he's said about her and what he's said about himself. When she adds that to what her aunt has said about him . . . she thinks to herself, "This is getting confusing."

After she refills her drink, she sits down at the dining room table and as she tries to put herself in his shoes, she starts to build a mental picture of his self-image based on what he's said about himself. She goes back over those parts of his history which he's described, tries to imagine how that might have made him feel about himself, and compares it to what he said or insinuated about how he felt. As she adjusts the picture she's building to how he said it made him feel, she takes the other things he's said and adds them to the picture until she thinks she has a rough idea of what his self-image might be like.

When she tries to hold the picture in her mind while she steps back to look at it in its fullness, she's dismayed at the dismal picture she's built. Since she thinks that can't be right, she mentally saves the picture and starts the process over. As she adds in a couple of things which she had forgotten the first time around, she rebuilds her picture of his self-image. When she's done, she again holds the picture in her mind and takes a step back. Unbelieving, she recalls her first picture and sure enough, her second picture of his self-image is even bleaker than the first. After she mentally saves the second picture, she 'climbs' out of her head and just sits there for awhile.

* * * * *

2147-08-33 (e2)

Sharlene starts to pick up her glass for a drink, but she quickly sets it back down again when she spills it on her hand and onto the table. She releases the glass, holds up her hand, and is shocked at how badly it's shaking. A moment or so later, she gets up, washes her hand in the kitchen sink, and takes the dish cloth back to the table to clean up her spill. After she sits back down, she takes the glass in both hands and takes a long drink before she takes the dish cloth back to the sink, gets the kitchen towel, and makes sure the table is dry. Only then does she glance at the clock, then looks back at it and can't believe how much time has passed.

George!! He should have finished his shower a long time ago. Quickly, Sharlene goes down the hall then stops at his closed bedroom door. She gently knocks on the door and calls his name, but doesn't hear anything. While she feels like she's throwing caution to the wind, she opens his door, steps into his dark bedroom, walks to his side of the bed and finds that his pulse is fine and his breathing is slow and steady. As she touches a dark spot on his pillow near his face with a finger, she feels that it's damp. Quickly, she brings her finger first to her nose and then to her tongue, but she can detect no scent or taste of blood. More than likely, he cried himself to sleep.

As she steps back to let him sleep, she sees that the bathroom light is still on. That's surprising, but even more surprising is the state of the bathroom, at least compared to how she's seen him leave her bathroom. His clothes, the ones he wore while mowing the grass rather than the ones he had put in the laundry room, are dropped probably right where he took them off, the used towel is a damp pile next to the shower, and his teeth are lying unwashed in the sink.

Was what she told him so shocking? She recognizes that his behavior since she told him how she feels bears a strong resemblance to someone in a state of shock. She sets that thought aside for the moment to quickly pick up the bathroom and turn out the light as she leaves. She checks him again and when she sees that he seems to be peacefully sleeping, she leaves the room and gently closes the door.

Back in the kitchen, she turns off the crock pot and transfers the rest of the soup into a pan to cool faster in order to be able to put it in the fridge then quickly tidies up the kitchen. As she steps out onto the back porch to make sure nothing is left outside, Sharlene is quietly greeted by Molly. She quickly kneels down and hugs Molly for a long time.

When she feels a little better, Sharlene thanks Molly and watches her trot off into the growing darkness. Sharlene steps back into the house and makes sure the doors are all locked. As she's about to sit down again, her phone rings and she answers it, "Hello?"

"Hi, Sharlene, it's Mariam."

"Hi, Mariam."

As she recognizes her subdued voice, she asks, "What's the matter?"

"I think I shocked George."

"What did you do?"

"I told him I wanted to touch him."

"I assume you mean intimately."

Sharlene nods her head before she responds verbally, "I said I wanted to feel his male anatomy. I also told him I wanted to have experience touching a male before we made love and that I wanted the experience to be with him."

"Humm, let me think for a moment. . . . Self-effacing, humble, overweight, out of shape, old man George gets told by the most beautiful woman he's laid eyes on, that she wants to touch him intimately. Honey, if he wasn't jumping for joy, then he was most definitely shocked."

"Mariam, how did you figure that out so fast? I just sat here for the last couple of hours trying to get an understanding of the first part of that equation."

"To be honest, Sharlene, I've been half expecting it. I've met a few men like George before. For some unknown reason, they started life with either a weak or a sensitive personality. My guess is George has a sensitive personality. Over time, life, circumstances, bullies, failed relationships, and who knows what else, have chopped pieces out of their self-image until there's little or nothing left. By then, they feel like they barely exist and are almost afraid to die in fear that they'll poison the ground wherever they're buried."

"I don't think I could have put it so descriptively, but that's about the conclusion I arrived at when I tried to build a picture in my head of what his self-image might be like."

"Good. I assume that's the first time you really tried to understand what he's been saying, as to what kind of self-image was speaking."

"I'm afraid so."

Mariam assures her, "Sharlene, it's okay. Most people, male or female, never take the time to understand their partner's self-image and how it might affect their relationship. I know you wished you had done it sooner, but I don't know if you would have had enough information to build even a semi-accurate image of his self-image."

"You're probably right about that."

"The next part of the equation is going to be harder for you to imagine and that's how he views you."

"I haven't tried to really figure that one out yet, but he's told me a lot about how he thinks of me."

"I hope you take the time to do that and seriously listen to what he's said. At this point though, you don't believe him."

Since she's quite surprised by that statement, Sharlene asks, "What do you mean?"

"You don't believe what he says about you. Frankly, I would be rather surprised if you did. Actually you two have similar problems. What he says about you is so contrary to your own self-image that you may hear the words he says, but you don't believe the meaning behind them."

"What have you heard him say about me?"

"Very little. You've told me a lot more. Remember, I've seen him watch you. If he's told you only half of what I've seen in his eyes and in his expression, then he's told you that you're the most beautiful woman on the planet."

"Yes, he's actually used those very words. But, . . ."

Mariam interrupts, "No 'but's, Sharlene. It doesn't matter whether you're the most beautiful woman or not, as though there's any way to determine that. What matters is, that's what he believes, that's how he views you. . . . I have a confession to make, but before I do, I need to ask you a couple of questions. Do you think men would consider me to be an attractive woman?"

"Yes."

"Do you think a man would turn me down if I asked them to take me to bed?"

"No."

"Your George did."

"What!?!"

"Calm down, Sharlene." After she pauses a moment to see if she's going to say more, Mariam explains, "That first weekend when we got together to work on the business plan after George was released from the medical center? When you went out for pizza on sixth-day, I sat on the love seat next to George and asked him to take me to bed. He looked at me in surprise and said, 'no'.

"Sharlene, that decrepit old man of yours is the only man who's every told me 'no'. When I asked him why, he said he didn't want to hurt you. I admitted I was testing him because at the time I was still unsure of his intentions towards you. But he still turned me down.

"Think about that for awhile. He didn't tell me 'no' because he found me unattractive or didn't think I would be fun in bed, because I directly asked him those questions. He told me 'no' because your feelings were more important than his pleasure."

"He never told me about that."

"Then he kept his promise because I asked him not to tell you."

Sharlene pauses, "Mariam, would you have gone to bed with him?"

"Yes. I didn't really want to, but I wouldn't have reneged on the offer. If he had said 'yes,' I would have told you as soon as you got home and helped you kick him out of the door. I didn't want to hurt you by telling you, but I couldn't think of a more clear demonstration that I know of, to show you how much he thinks of you. You're his dream come true and I've heard him tell you that. If he was asked to describe his ideal image of the perfect woman, he would describe you."

Since she really doesn't want to think about what Mariam is saying about George's image of her, she asks, "Wasn't that quite a risk you took on my behalf, to ask him to take you to bed?"

"After watching him watch you, I didn't think the risk was very high. Even if the risk was higher, I thought it was worth it to know his intentions towards you."

Sharlene thinks about it some before she says, "I guess I'm not sure how your test would have defined his intentions towards me."

"If he was only interested in getting into your pants, the odds are very high that he would have accepted my immediate offer rather than wait for you. Again, that's not the important issue. What's important is that you understand how he looks at you or how he views you from within his framework."

"I know and I thank you for continuing to bring that point to the front. I guess I'm having a hard time facing that issue and want to keep skirting around it."

"That's fair enough. Sharlene, take your time to think about it. I think you'll be rather amazed at what you discover. So, how's everything else going?"

"Until I shocked him, everything had been going marvelously. I love his home and feel very comfortable here. He's been wonderfully kind and generous. I was a little concerned that he might act somewhat differently in his home environment, but that hasn't been the case. I think the biggest difficulty we've had is controlling our desire for each other."

"If you both agree, what's holding you back?"

"The journey of touching which he wants me to enjoy. He doesn't want me to miss any of the steps along the way, and from the way it's gone so far, I don't want to miss any steps either, but it feels so good I want more and more."

"Is it worth the delay?"

"I don't know yet, but I think so. Sometimes I think that if making love is any better than what I've already experienced, I might not survive it. I don't know if I'm hypersensitive or if George's touching is somehow special, but the results are WOW!! And unless there's something wrong with my ERD or the software, my emotional recordings show the results."

It's Mariam's turn to be surprised and ask, "Really?"

"Yes, really. When we get the company started and I begin to submit the recordings anonymously, I'm going to have to be careful and spread them out."

"Unless we change the process, that may be a bit of a problem since we're used to a week's worth of recordings come in at the same time."

"Oh, I totally forgot about that."

"We could try to paste some of your quiet data around your hits, but then we might have to change the date and time stamps to match."

Sharlene thinks for a moment then says, "We'll need to figure out a way to do that anyway, because nobody is supposed to have the equipment to make any recordings during this time period."

"Ouch. I hadn't thought about that. If you're making good recordings, I would rather try to find a way to explain anomalous date and time information than to lose your recordings. So keep recording if you can and we'll figure out a way to get it into the system or we'll just change the rules and put it into the system anyway we want."

"That's a thought. Sometimes I forget we're going to be in charge of making the rules."

"I know what you mean."

* * * * *

2147-08-33 (e3)

Sharlene briefly pauses then asks, "I don't mean to take up your time, Mariam, but how are things at the Project?"

"Quiet and boring. It's common knowledge that the Project is going on the market this coming second-day. We've had a couple of other inquiries, but nothing real interesting. Todd and Julie are hanging on, they can't really do anything, nor can they start any new projects. I think they're almost looking forward to demonstrating the system to prospective buyers next week just to give them something to do. I suggested they might want to review the recordings in the database and see if there's a way to improve the description and index of the recordings in order to improve the accessibility for any future buyer."

"That's a great idea, thank you. Have you heard anything more about who will be on the training team?"

"No. And I'm only guessing that I'll be on it along with Todd and Julie, because other than Nik and Kassie, we're the only ones still assigned to the Project and are supposed to give the demonstrations to prospective buyers."

Sharlene asks, "Nik and Kassie? Who are they?"

"Nik Nikkels is the director of the Project. Probably the only time you saw him was at the orientation."

"Oh, him."

"Real impressive, isn't he?"

"My impression of him was that of a fast talking used car salesman."

"That's probably one of the nicest things anyone has said about him, at least those with a title lower than director."

"Who's Kassie?"

Mariam explains, "Kassie Jones, she actually prefers her full name of Kassandra, is one of the reviewers of the emotional recordings. She's competent, but very quiet and private. You've probably seen her around the office, she's about medium height, has medium brown hair just a little longer than shoulder length, and dresses very plain. I don't think I've ever seen her wear makeup. She has a pleasant looking face but not remarkable. Very seldom have I seen her smile. Actually, she kind of reminds me of some of your early descriptions of George, only of the female variety."

"Based on first impressions and as I think ahead, I wouldn't want Nik to be a part of Digital Empathy unless he has some other qualifications. What about Kassie, or should I say Kassandra, if that's what she prefers?"

"Forget about Nik, at least as far as Digital Empathy goes. We may have to find something to do with him during the training time, but we can figure that out later. Kassie? I want to say 'yes', but I'm not sure. I don't know what her educational or other employment background is, or what her natural abilities are. Like I said, she's competent, but I have the impression that her job is neither what she wants to be doing nor does it match what she's capable of doing."

"Mariam, were there any other people at the Project who you think ought to be brought onboard if we get it?"

"I'm not sure how many more people we would need to start out. If we keep the manufacturer of the headbands on as a subcontractor to make and even ship the headbands, that's a lot of people we don't need to hire. As you've seen, reviewing the incoming recordings is mostly the software working.

"Unless we have a large influx of recordings coming in, one or two people working part time should be able to double check the software before passing it on to the testers. And that won't happen until after we get organized and distribute headbands to potential emoters. Since we want ordinary people to be able to experience the emotions, we may have to rethink the testing program as well as the standards of acceptable emotions. Maybe instead of hiring testers, we could use representative samples and conduct something like a survey, like they do with taste tests in malls or grocery stores."

Sharlene thinks for a moment then says, "It sounds like we might need a public relations type person to set up and conduct those surveys as well as conduct the initial introductory session to potential emoters, someone who wouldn't mind doing road trips. I can't imagine that all of the clean intense emotions are only generated by people here in this geographical area."

"That's a good point. It's frustrating to think about all of these questions and not feel free to ask them because we don't want to give our plans away. How are you dealing with it?"

"I'm ashamed to admit that this is the first time I've thought about the company since I've been here."

"That's good."

Since she hadn't expected anything like that kind of a response, Sharlene asks, "Why is it good?"

"Because I know you would be even more frustrated than I am in not being able to ask the questions. And if you were that frustrated, you would be less likely to produce good emotional recordings which we both want and need."

"Mariam, the way you say that makes it sound like there's more behind your words."

"There is. I wanted to wait until I finished my review, but let me give you the preliminary results. Just as I asked Todd and Julie to review all of the emotional recordings available to better describe and index them, I've also been going through all of the recordings and double checking the cleanliness and intensity of what's in the database. I've gone through more than half of the emotional recordings and based on that, yours are the cleanest recordings we have. They're not always the most intense, but so far they're the cleanest. And considering what I understand from what Todd and Julie have said, how clean an emotional recording is, is more important than how intense it is.

"Based on that, you're going to be more help to Digital Empathy by recording your emotions than you are by being frustrated over questions we don't have answers to yet. I know this sounds strange, but forget about Digital Empathy for awhile longer, love George, laugh with him, argue with him, even fight with him. If you don't want to fight with George, find the local town bully, call him a coward, then beat the crap out of him."

"I don't want to fight any one. And weren't we told that contrived emotions aren't as clean."

"True." Mariam pauses then explains, "I guess what I'm trying to say, is live life large for awhile. If you think of something to do, do it with all of your concentration, internal gusto, or whatever you want to call it. I think our questions about Digital Empathy will sort themselves out, when we're in a position to safely ask the questions. But when I see how clean your recordings are compared to most of the rest of the recordings we have in the database, we want more of yours, lots more. . . . Okay, I'll get off my soapbox for now. Back to George, after shocking him by what you said, what happened?"

Sharlene takes a moment to respond to the change in subject, "I got him to eat a bowl of soup and drink some iced tea, but his responses were basically distant, polite, and barely more than one syllable. When he finished eating, he went into the house, took a shower, and went to bed. When I checked on him later, it looked like he had cried himself to sleep."

"I probably don't have to tell you to be real patient with him."

"No, you don't have to, but I do appreciate the reminder. I still find it amazing how fast book learning goes out of the window when the situation personally affects me."

"Then I'll try not to feel guilty about the reminder."

Sharlene requests, "Mariam, please, if you know something about dealing with a person in shock, tell me. It was all going so well until I opened my mouth."

"First of all, don't take the guilt on yourself. Sooner or later, something would have been said or done. George has had a long time to build his self-image and he's apparently also had a lot of reinforcement to keep it strong. Your relationship with him is a direct contradiction to who he thinks he is. He needs to tear down his old self-image and build a new self-image which includes room for you. And that's going to take time. How much time is anyone's guess.

"I assume that he's already started the process, but the timing of your declaration was just too much out of sync with his rebuilding process so he wasn't able to deal with it. There's no way either one of you could have known that, so no guilt. Sometimes life throws us a curve and we just have to deal with it. How George is going to deal with this curve, I have no idea and neither do you. That's why I stress patience. He may wake up in the morning and have forgotten the past several days, or he may not recognize you, the worst case is that he might wake up and not know who he is. Or he might wake up having assimilated what you said and be anxious for you to start touching him."

Since she seems to automatically fear the worse, Sharlene is almost in tears as she says, "Oh, Mariam, I can't imagine . . . ."

"Then don't imagine. You . . don't . . know. So don't start building scenarios. If you could step back and look at the situation more clinically, you could probably come up with hundreds of other possible responses which George might have. Don't do that. There are only two things for you to remember: you love him and he loves you. Nothing else matters. Let him get a good night's sleep. Either when he gets up or when you think it's past time for him to wake up, be your kind and gentle self. He'll respond to that like a flower to warm gentle sunshine. And be patient."

"Thank you Mariam. You don't know how much I appreciate your advice and shoulder to lean on."

"Sharlene, first of all, we're friends and secondly, we're partners. Nothing more needs to be said, but I'll say more. You've given me so much hope for the future, that helping you over a bump or two in the road is the least I can do. Now, while I'm in my pulpit, you need to get yourself a good night's sleep also. That's the best way to prepare yourself for whatever condition George is in when he wakes up in the morning. If something comes up, give me a call."

"Thanks again, Mariam."

"You're welcome, now remember, sleep then patience."

"Yes, 'mommy'. Good night."

"Night."

Although it's earlier than she's used to going to bed, Sharlene is tired from the emotional strain of the last few hours. After she considers and discards several options for keeping herself busy, she gets herself ready for bed. While she lays there in the guest bedroom, she starts to review what George has said about her, but before she gets very far, she falls asleep.

* * * * *

2147-08-34 (m1)

As she opens her eyes, Sharlene sees the hint of sunrise begin to brighten the walls of the room. She sits up and is about to launch herself out of bed, when she remembers. She groans in dismay and almost falls back on the bed while she thinks about George and wonders what condition he's going to be in this morning. She forces herself to get out of bed, cautiously slips into his room, and finds that he appears to be physically okay and asleep, at least based on his pulse and breathing. She steps out of his room, gently closes the door and after a brief bathroom stop, she goes to the 'empty' guest bedroom, calms herself and begins her tai-chi routine.

When she's done, she gets dressed then goes to the kitchen and makes a mug of tea. She sits down at the dining room table and takes some time to savor the tea and do nothing else. After she makes another mug of tea, she sits back down, closes her eyes, and listens to his voice as he describes her. From one remembered conversation to another, she builds a mental picture of the person he describes. When she looks at the mental picture she's built from his descriptions, she admits that it's beautiful by most of the current cultural standards of beauty, unless one is only interested in well-rounded and busty beauty. When the picture turns again and faces her, she's shocked to see herself as though in a mirror. Angrily, she shakes her head and proclaims, "No, it can't be."

She quickly swallows the last of her lukewarm tea, goes to the stove, and turns the kettle back on. Once the water is hot and the stove is turned off, she starts another mug of tea steeping, goes to the bathroom, and avoids looking in the mirror while she washes her hands. Back in the kitchen, she fixes her tea, then sits at the table and begins the exercise again.

As she tries to remember everything he's said in describing her from his point of view and to stay honest to his description, she again builds a mental picture, this time using his descriptions of her wearing a skirt instead of pants, including the sway of her hips and how the skirt outlines her legs. When the picture is complete, based on how he described what he saw and how he saw it, she's astounded at what the mental picture portrays. With great reluctance, she finally admits, with the huge caveat that it's only one person's opinion, that from his viewpoint, she's a beautiful woman.

For a long time, she just sits there with her hands wrapped around the tea mug. Mariam was right, that was harder than building a picture of his self-image, probably because it's so personal and involves revising her own self-image. She hopes she can avoid a personality change since it's obvious she needs to revise her self-image.

A little later, as she contrasts her picture of his self-image with her imagined picture of his image of her, she now has a better understanding, assuming her pictures are semi-accurate, of the difficulty he's had with her wanting him at any level. With that, she also thinks she has an answer to his dilemma. Although she's mentioned it to him before, she has to admit that she's been much more guilty of not listening to him, considering how much more frequently and clearly he's spoken of his dilemma in trying to understand why she would want him.

She finishes her tea, rinses out the mug, and when she sees that it's quite a ways past the time he really ought to be getting up, she goes to his bedroom, gently taps on his door, and calls his name. Even though she recognizes that he might not have heard her, she slips into his room and goes around to his side of the bed. While he's still laying on his side facing the wall, she checks his pulse and breathing.
She kneels down on the floor beside his bed so her face is about level with his on the bed and watches him for awhile. Later, she reaches up and gently caresses the left side of his face with her right hand while she softly calls his name. After awhile, a dreamy smile softens the line of his lips and she occasionally catches his hum of pleasure.

She softly says, "Good morning, George. It's time to wake up."

His eyes slowly start to open. When he sees her, his eyes pop open, his head rears back, and he stutters in surprise, "Wh . . . Who are you?"

While she does her best to keep her facial expression from changing while her heart cries alligator tears, she answers, "Sharlene."

"But . . . but Sharlene is . . . in my dreams, a fantasy, a . . . a figment of my imagination."

"No, George, I'm not a figment of your imagination. I'm real, just as real as you are."

She leans forward and as she begins to gently caress his face again, she's pleasantly surprised to see that he doesn't try to evade her.

"Real?"

"Yes, George, real."

"You look like Sharlene. You sound like Sharlene. I thought I was waking up. Maybe I just dreamed I was waking up. That's it, I'm still dreaming." He reaches out his left hand and begins to caress her face as he says, "Oh, how lovely you are this morning, my love. I really don't want to wake up and leave you."

"George, you did wake up. You didn't leave me. You woke up to be with me."

"I can't be awake. The only way someone as beautiful as you could want to be with a boring old man like me is in my dreams. You are here, so therefore, I must be dreaming."

"Oh, George." She slides her right hand up his left arm, holds his caressing hand still, starts to kiss his palm, then slowly kisses out towards his fingertips. She gently pushes his thumb into her mouth, turns her head a little, and, when the tip of his thumb is between her molars, she bites down, hard.

"Oww!!" He yanks his hand out of her mouth, sits up away from her, and almost yells, "You bit me! What the hell did you do that for!?!"

"George, is the pain real?"

"Damn right, it's real!"

"Then I'm real."

"What!?!"

"If you're experiencing real pain, then I, who caused the pain, am also real."

He stares at her with wide eyes for quite awhile before he can get out a single word, "Real?"

"Yes, George, real. I'm not a figment of your imagination nor am I only in your dreams. I'm real and I'm really here. . . . I apologize for biting you. Here, give me your hand."

He holds it to himself for awhile before he cautiously extends it.

As she holds his injured hand in her right hand, she gently caresses it with her left hand while she tells him, "I know this won't take the pain away, but do you feel it?"

He nods his head.

"Does it also feel real??"

Hesitantly, he nods his head again.

"George, you're awake and real. So am I real, so is Molly, and Aunt Paula, and Uncle Paul."

He looks around the room as though to confirm where he is then he turns back to look at her and asks, "Real!?! If you're real, then what are you doing here with me?"

"That's the crux of the matter. You think I'm too beautiful and too wonderful for me to want to be with someone like you."

He nods his head and proclaims, "That's right."

"George, do you think it's right to treat or judge people based on their external appearance?"

"Of course not." He sees her raised eyebrows, then realizes, "But I'm doing it to you."

"I'm afraid so. I understand that for many years, people with beautiful external appearances have disdained you because of your less than attractive external appearance. I also understand that our society places almost exclusive attention on the value of a person based on their external appearance. Already you're fighting a double uphill battle.

"And then I come along. You see that I have a beautiful external appearance and so you automatically lump me with the group of people who don't want anything to do with you. You also put a lot of energy into convincing me that I am attractive to you. That doesn't make much sense unless you're trying to convince me that I belong in the group of people with beautiful external appearances who disdain people of less than attractive external appearances."

"Sharlene, I'm so sorry."

"I don't really blame you. You've overcome and rejected a lot of society's stupidities, but the central importance of external appearances is deeply ingrained, probably helped along by the genetic makeup of a human male to value the external appearance of the human female. Since external appearance is important to you and everyone you know, you therefore assumed, quite naturally, that it's important to me also.

"As a result, you quite logically reasoned, how could someone like me, with such a beautiful external appearance in your opinion, have any interest in you, who is considered to have an unattractive external appearance? Therefore, the reasoning goes, it's highly improbable that I would want you to touch me other than as pure selfishness on my part, it was impossible that I would want you to be in my life, and anything more is simply unimaginable."

He drops his head in embarrassment before he admits, "Yes."

She gets up off of the floor, sits on the bed near his left side, reaches over, and gently lifts and turns his head to face her. "George, I'm more at fault for this misunderstanding than you are and for that I'm truly sorry. Because I didn't explain myself, you've been hurt, confused, and suffered a strong shock to your psyche. Can you forgive me?"

With an expression of confusion on his face, he asks, "Forgive you for what?"

"For not explaining myself."

"About what?"

"Huh?"

Since he's only becoming more confused, he asks, "What didn't you explain about yourself?"

"I did it again. I made a leap in my reasoning and expected you to follow along. I'm sorry."

"Sharlene, please!! I wake up to find my dream is reality or is my reality a dream, I don't know which and from there I got lost. No more sorry's, no more explanations. What is the misunderstanding? What didn't you explain about yourself? Please, in very simply one syllable words, say what you mean, so a stupid old man can know what you're talking about."

* * * * *

2147-08-34 (m2)

As Sharlene stares at George in amazement, she starts to say several different things, mostly along the lines of 'I'm sorry' or explaining her reasoning, but stops each time as she sees how confused he is, as well as how near to being angry he's become. While she hopes she can adequately express what she thinks might provide at least a partial answer to his dilemma of trying to understand why she wants him, Sharlene explains, "I don't know why or how, but I don't understand our culture's emphasis on external appearances. When I look at a person, I see their appearance. I may recognize their body shape as tall or short, fat or skinny, smooth or wrinkly, but the words like 'beautiful' or 'ugly' in regards to a person's external appearance don't mean anything to me.

"Over the years, I've learned some of the standards which society applies to those words and have learned to mimic their use, but I personally feel nothing when those words are used. You have a body. I have a body. That's it. Neither of our bodies is attractive. Neither of our bodies is unattractive. They just are. They're the vessels we happen to carry ourselves around in.

"I've slowly come to realize that my external appearance contains many of those elements which our society considers beautiful. I understand that you enjoy looking at me because of those elements. I know it sounds contradictory when I say that I don't consider my own body as beautiful, yet I feel thrilled when you tell me that I am beautiful. I really don't understand myself. I also know that according to society standards, your body is considered unattractive. But to me, your body is neither attractive nor unattractive by itself.

"I like your body because it's a part of you, the kind, generous, giving, and comfortable man who I desire to be with more closely every day. I want to touch your body because I want to touch you and because I know the physical sensation of being touched pleases you. The more you've touched me, the more my body enjoys you touching me. I want to share those joyous sensations with you. I know I'm not being very clear, but the bottom line is, I want you, George, for the person you are and that includes your body, regardless of its shape or age. I, as a person, want to touch you, as a person, and the only way I know how to do that, is for my body to touch your body."

"The shape of my body doesn't matter to you?"

Sharlene shakes her head as she assures him, "No, it doesn't."

"You're unbelievable."

"No more unbelievable than you. You've proven multiple times that my feelings of pleasure are more important to you than taking advantage of what you consider my beautiful body. I also found out last night that you refused Mariam's offer of pleasure with her beautiful body because you didn't want to hurt my feelings."

He hesitates to ask, "She told you about that?"

"Yes, she did and I can't tell you how selfishly proud I am of you for your concern about my feelings."

"I was only doing what I thought was right."

She assures him, "I know that's how you feel and that's part of why you're so special to me."

They just look at each other for awhile and aren't sure what to say. They also want to touch the other person, but they're hesitant to be the one to make the first move. Soon, George drops his head then begins to poke and pull at the bed covers with his fingers. Occasionally, he stops plucking at the bed covers to glance towards her and open his mouth as though to say something, but nothing comes out. After quite awhile longer and without looking up, he finally asks, "Sharlene?"

"Yes."

"You say that in your opinion, my body is neither attractive nor unattractive, while you recognize that according to our cultural standards, my body is unattractive."

"That's correct."

"And because the shape of my body and its obvious age doesn't offend you, then you're willing to touch my body because you want to touch the person which my body contains."

"That's right."

"At the same time, you recognize your body as beautiful . . ."

Sharlene shakes her head as she interrupts him, "No, George. I don't, personally, see my body as beautiful. You've made it very clear that you consider my external appearance to be beautiful. You've also helped me to understand that my body contains many elements which match the cultural standards of beauty. Thus, I recognize that my body is considered beautiful, not by myself, but by others within our society who may observe it."

"Thank you for the clarification. That makes more sense. Sharlene, are you offended that I and other people do consider you beautiful?"

She briefly hesitates before she responds, "No, I'm not offended. I'm saddened that some people who are beautiful on the inside are rejected or ignored simply because their external appearance doesn't meet our cultural standards of beauty, like what you've experienced."

"There are many areas of my personality which aren't exactly attractive and those people who can tolerate my external appearance, usually find my personality offensive, well, maybe not offensive, but certainly not likable, which produces the same results in the long run. Even though my external appearance may not bother you, I still have trouble understanding why you like my inner person when so many others haven't."

"I think a lot of people probably ignored or rejected you because you're not a very social person. You probably score very high as an introvert."

"I do."

"That's something else we have in common."

He looks at her in surprise for awhile before he asks, "You, an introvert?"

She nods her head as she answers, "Very much so. Other than my family, the only people who I'm social with are you and Mariam. But you were right when you talked about people either being more forgiving or making a bigger effort when they consider the other person attractive. I hadn't realized it until you explained it.

"I had often wondered why some of my classmates who were just as smart as I was and even more socially oriented would be ignored when I wasn't. I realize, now, that it was simply because their external appearance wasn't socially considered as attractive as mine. I'm ashamed to say that I didn't make any effort to befriend them either. I guess it was assumed that since I'm attractive, I must be an extrovert. Why those two characteristics are supposed to go together, I have no idea."

He suggests, "I think it's because when a person is attractive, they are given more positive attention. People generally like to receive positive attention. So if they're quite attractive, they receive lots of positive attention from lots of people and because they like the positive attention, they like lots of people to give them that attention."

She thinks for a few moments before she responds, "You're probably right. I like positive attention, but to be around a lot of people like at a party or a theater or even the mall, absolutely makes my skin crawl. I'll do almost anything to avoid those situations. My parents could never understand why I didn't want to go to the fair or the circus or any place where there was a crowd.

"Because I was so small, I could get away with having my parents, especially Dad, pick me up and carry me for years longer than other kids could. If we were anywhere near a crowd, Dad could be holding me and I would quite literally be shaking. I couldn't explain it, but it soon became clear that if they wanted to go to some social activity, they went without me. I want positive attention just as much as anyone else. I just prefer to receive it from a few people who I know actually care for me, rather than from a bunch of semi-strangers who give me attention because they think they'll somehow benefit from it.

"The many things we have in common make it easy for me to see and to like your inner person. But more than that, George, I think you're the kindest, most gentle, and considerate man I've ever met. You've made no attempt to exert any kind of control over me, which means that I feel very comfortable in your presence. I feel safe being with you. Even though you've made it very clear you greatly desire my body, you've shown incredible restraint. That allows me to be myself. With no other man I've been around, did I feel the freedom to totally be me, there was always some sense of needing to be on guard for one thing or another.

"George, one of the many things I really appreciate about you is that you don't put on airs or try to impress me. I guess you don't think you have anything to impress me with. Regardless of the reasoning, it's comforting to know that you are yourself, as you told the story about the young couple considering marriage, 'what you see is what you get'. I'm thankful I didn't have to deal with it much, but just a few times of having insincere people try to gain my attention, was revolting. There's so much about you that I like and appreciate, in fact, when I add them all up, I think the inner person contained in this body," she lays her right hand on his knee, "is one of the most beautiful people I've ever met."

He stares at her in disbelief.

"You heard me right. But just to make sure you did hear me right, you, George Greyson, are one of the most beautiful people I've ever met. So when I say I want you, or when I say I want to touch you, I'm not being some sort of self-sacrificing martyr who lowers herself to share wonderful me with the little people. I'm being very selfish and self-centered in wanting this beautiful person called George Greyson to be near me, as near and as close as I can possibly get to him."

"You . . . You . . . You . . ." he finally forces it out, "the most wonderful and beautiful person I've ever seen or met, thinks I'm beautiful?"

"Yes."

"This boring, antisocial, overweight, balding, cynical, ugly old man?"

"If that's how you want to describe yourself, then yes, I think you're beautiful. You're also kind, generous, caring, considerate, supportive, and encouraging. You make me laugh, you make me think. The only thing I would want to change about you is your age, so we can have many, many more years to be together, to explore each other's personalities, and to explore each other's bodies. But since I can't change that, then the time we have together is even more precious."

"You . . . want . . . ME??"

"I know it goes against so much of what you've learned and experienced, but I really do want you."

* * * * *

2147-08-34 (m3)

While George looks at her with disbelief in his eyes, she just gently smiles at him with love in her eyes and then wipes away the tears which begin to roll down his checks. After a minute or so, she turns and sits cross-legged right next to him, pulls his head down to cradle on her chest, and holds him as he starts to quietly sob.

Several minutes later, he starts to settle then asks, "Sharlene, are you . . . sure . . . you want . . . me?"

"Yes, George, I'm very sure I want you."

The silence stretches out even as she can feel his tears continue to spill onto her arm. A long time later, he slowly sits up, turns around and reaches for a tissue from the box on the headboard to dry his face and blow his nose. A moment or two later he tells her, "I'm sorry I cried on you."

"I'm sorry you were sad enough to cry, but I'm glad you were willing to let me hold you and catch your tears. I want you not just when you're happy, but when you're sad, too. I want all of you and that includes the tears just as much as the smiles."

"Please, you keep saying that and I'm going to start crying again."

"Then my love, come here and cry again," she pulls his head down to cradle it on her chest, "because I want you, and I'm happy to hold you while you wash away your hurt and your pain. How many times have you held me when I was hurting? I want you and I want to help you heal."

Many minutes later, when his tears have reduced to an occasional trickle down his cheek and across her left arm which is holding his head, she undoes the buttons on his pajama top and soothingly caresses his chest with her right hand. He tenses up for a little while before he slowly starts to relax. A little later, immediately after he deeply sighs, he almost slumps on her as the tension flows out of him. When her left arm is beginning to ache from holding his head, he slowly pushes himself up to a sitting position, swings his legs away from her so he's sitting on the edge of the bed, grabs a tissue from the box and again begins to dry his face and blow his nose.

She slips up behind him, spreads her legs along the outsides of his legs, and hugs him as she snuggles up to his back. When he's done with the tissues, he leans back slightly on her and caresses her arms which are holding him across his chest. He hesitates just a little longer then tells her, "Thank you, Sharlene. Even though it may be awhile before I can fully believe that you want me, just to hear you say you want me and for you to even give me some of your reasons is wonderful. I really don't deserve you, but I intend to appreciate every moment you want to spend with me."

She slips her heels over the top of his legs to between his knees, and asks, "Can you show your appreciation by caressing my legs?"

"Of course."

She caresses the bare skin of his chest while he caresses her pants clad legs. After a few moments, she says, "Mmm, that's nice. George, this one time, can you please caress me no higher than my knees?"

Although he thinks her request is somewhat unusual, he nevertheless agrees and soon dismisses the strangeness of her request since he enjoys caressing her legs while Sharlene caresses his chest and upper abdomen. He's so caught up in the enjoyment of her caresses after his earlier emotional storm that he's not consciously aware she has been caressing his lower abdomen and along the fronts and insides of his upper thighs, until she's gently pulling his erect penis through the open fly of his pajamas.

He grabs her hands in shock and asks, "What are you doing?"

"I'm just giving you a little demonstration that I really do want you, all of you, including your body. Please George, relax, let me learn how to touch you, let me learn how to give you pleasure."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. I certainly don't intend to hurt you. You've given me a lot of pleasure, please, let me give you a little back. I'm not taking my clothes off and I'm not going to push you to make love to me. I just want to touch you a little, to give you a little pleasure. I know you want me to. There's certainly nothing wrong with me touching you. Please George, caress my legs and let me caress you."

Slowly, he relents and reluctantly begins to caress her legs again while she moves her hands back up to caress his chest and upper abdomen which helps him to relax. After awhile, she feels the tension drain out of him and she slowly works her caressing hands lower again. When her hands reach his somewhat limp penis, he tenses up, but since she just holds his penis in one hand and caresses him in the general area with her other hand and then switches what her hands are doing, he slowly starts to feel the emotional tension begin to drain away, while a more pleasant tension begins to grow. Since she's pressed up to his back, she can't see what she's doing even while she continues to gently fondle his stiffening penis.

As she thinks about how she would want to be touched and tries to remember back to what she overheard some of the older girls at the university say about their sexual adventures, when she guesses that his penis is fully erect, she slides her left hand into the open fly of his pajama bottoms to fondle his scrotum, while her right hand gently slides up and down the length of his penis. Soon, his tension builds and as he grips her legs, he tries to thrust his hips up then she feels muscles contract, something moves under the skin of his penis, then she feels something warm, wet, and sticky on the back of her hand as he almost slumps on her with the sudden release of tension. As she continues to gently touch him, it takes him a little while to become aware of what happened.

"Oh, no. I made a mess on you." He quickly grabs some tissues and starts to wipe up his release as he proclaims, "I'm terribly sorry."

"George, don't be sorry. I had forgotten about your release, but it's okay. The important thing is, did you enjoy it?"

He stops for a moment in his efforts to wipe up his mess to admit, "Yes, Sharlene, I enjoyed it very much. Thank you." After a couple of more tissues are used up, he asks, "Can you please move your legs and hands? I really should go wash up. It looks like I'll need to change the sheets too."

When she moves her hands and legs away from him, he starts to stand up, but quickly sits back down again.

"What's the matter?"

"Dizzy."

"Then sit still."

She gets off of the bed, goes to the bathroom, washes her hands, gets a washcloth wet, grabs a dry hand towel, goes back into the bedroom, and leans over to start washing him.

"I think I'd better do that."

"Don't you want me to touch you?"

"It's not a matter of whether I want you to or not. I'm just not comfortable yet with you so obviously touching me, especially when the journey isn't to the point where I can be touching you in return."

As she hands him the washcloth, she says, "That's a reasonable answer."

Although he's embarrassed, but is unwilling to push the issue further, he bites his lip and washes himself while she intently watches. When he reaches for the dry hand towel, she takes the washcloth and goes to the bathroom to rinse it out while he quickly dries and then covers himself. He's amazed that for someone who had previously never been with a man, she seems remarkably unfazed by his bared male anatomy and exhibits no revulsion to touching him or enduring the mess he made.

As she comes back to the bed to get the hand towel, she recommends, "Don't get up until I get back," takes the hand towel, and hangs it up in the bathroom. When she returns to stand close to him, she extends a hand, braces herself, and says, "Come on, stand up, and lean on me. We need to get some food in you." Reluctantly, but with necessity, he accepts her support as they slowly walk down the hall to the dining room where she sits him down and quickly gets him a glass of orange juice. As he takes the time to drink it slowly, she warms up some frozen egg batter fried bread, gets out the syrup and peanut butter, and soon has food in front of him and they quietly dig in.

When they're finished eating, he pauses then turns to her and says, "Sharlene, I'm sorry I'm such a burden on you, but I very much appreciate your help."

"After I gave you a big shock to your psyche last night and then gave you a different kind of shock this morning and wore you out, the least I can do is to help you get back on your feet again. George, did it bother you that I touched you this morning?"

"Um . . . direct, aren't you? . . . Well, the answer is yes and no. No, because I like and want to be touched. Even without experience, you certainly know how to touch me in a pleasurable and exciting manner. Yes, because it's been a long time since I've been seen or touched by a woman and never by one as beautiful as you. And yes, because I feel guilty about you touching me when I'm not ready to touch you the same in return."

"Would it be so bad if we were to make love soon?"

He hesitates then shakes his head before he says, "It wouldn't be bad, it would be wonderful, at least I think it would be, but you would wonder what you had missed out on. The odds are strong that the sooner we make love, the more likely we'll be inclined to almost always want to culminate our intimate activities by making love. But there will be times when it's not appropriate to make love, like during your menses or when one or both of us are very tired. In addition, the more ways we find to enjoy pleasure, the more options we have to enjoy ourselves without feeling like we have to make love. There were a few occasions when I was much younger that I was interested in giving pleasure to my woman, but the risk was too great for being caught without our clothes on, so we had to forego the pleasure."

"You mean like yesterday afternoon."

He thinks for a moment then says, "I suppose that could be an example. We might have been somewhat embarrassed if someone came to deliver something, which is highly unlikely, but still possible, or if an airplane flew low overhead. But we couldn't have been arrested for indecent exposure or suffered the much greater embarrassment we would have felt if we were seen buck naked."

"So the more ways we find to enjoy pleasure, means many more options to do so."

"That's a good way to put it. Besides, I think you would become bored if the only way you received pleasure was laying on your back with your legs spread while an overweight man crushed you."

* * * * *

2147-08-34 (m4)

George pauses then says, "That reminds me of the story of a couple who made love and immediately afterwards, she looked at the ceiling and said, 'Beige. I think I'll paint the ceiling beige.' Obviously, their love making left something to be desired, at least from her perspective."

Sharlene looks at him in surprise and asks, "Did that really happen?"

"I have no idea, but it wouldn't surprise me if similar things happen very frequently. It does illustrate a common approach to the sex life for many couples, he feels the need for relief, she puts up with it as a wifely duty, and neither of them have much fun. Yet, he'll be bragging to his buddies about his sexual prowess because his woman willing spreads her legs whenever he wants."

"I suppose that when I touch you intimately before you're ready to touch me in return, you feel somewhat guilty about having 'the little woman' give you pleasure without making sure she's also enjoying the event."

He hesitates then nods his head, "Yes, even though I know I'm not forcing or even asking you to give me pleasure. Sometimes I feel like since I've been continuously exposed to the idea of the man in a relationship controlling or sometimes just taking the pleasure for himself, I tend to go overboard in the other direction of trying to give pleasure to the woman to the point of ignoring my own desire or pleasure."

"That explains something I've been wondering about, but I was never quite sure how to appropriately ask the question."

"That may explain how I feel, but I still haven't been able to figure out why I feel that way in contrast to the culture all around me. Even during those times when I would look at pictures of women who were almost or fully naked and enjoy their beauty, more often I wondered what it would be like to please them rather than thinking about how they could please me. I know it doesn't make much sense, and I can't prove that was what I was thinking, but, there it is, one of my dirty secrets exposed."

She pauses a moment before she responds, "You obviously like to look at more than just naked women, considering how often you look at me and you haven't seen me anywhere near naked. So when you've said on more than one occasion that you like to look at naked women, are you trying to shock me or something?"

He thinks for a moment then says, "I don't know. I suppose subconsciously I'm trying to make you see what a thoroughly despicable and undesirable person I am. I would prefer that you know me for who I am ahead of time, rather than for us to build a relationship on a false premise and have you be hurt or disappointed later on."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, old man, but I quite thoroughly like you just as you are, regardless of your exposed dirty secrets. I doubt if you're much different than the vast majority of men who would happily look at naked women if they had the opportunity. It's not the looking which is bad, it's the attitude which might develop and the possible actions that follow which cause problems. From what I've seen and from what Aunt Paula has told me, there's nothing wrong with your attitude and your actions have been exemplary. Certainly much better than we could have expected or even imagined. So just out of curiosity, do women have to be half naked before you look at them?"

His half laugh is bitter before he answers, "Absolutely not. My ex-wife would get women's clothing catalogs in which the models were fully clothed such that only a prude could object to them. I found it very difficult to see those catalogs lay around the house and not pick them up and look at them. When I go to the store, or even drive down the street, I have to force myself to look straight ahead and not look at the females around me."

Sharlene hesitates before she says, "To help me understand something, you like to look at women whether they're living or photographs, whether they're fully clothed or naked."

George nods his head as he answers, "Yes."

"And you've been looking for years, I take it."

"Decades, actually."

"I suppose it would be decades since you were a teenager."

"I was interested before I was a teenager."

Her eyes open wide as she asks, "Before?"

He nods his head again and answers, "The first I remember thinking of females as special people who I wanted to get to know, was when I was in the middle of elementary school. Of course, I wouldn't have known what to do with a female at the time or for years after, but that's when I first remember being interested in the fairer gender."

"That young?"

He nods his head again.

"Oh, my. And you never had a girlfriend until you were out of high school?"

"That's right."

"So, for all of those many years of interest in females and looking at them and pictures of them, you still think I'm beautiful?"

"Very much so."

"Come on, George, if you've looked at as many pictures of women as you imply, and commercial pictures of women, whether in catalogs, television, or online, tend to lean heavily towards those who are considered the more attractive, then you must have seen many women who are much more attractive than I am."

He shakes his head as he says, "Nope. In my opinion, you beat them all."

"George!"

"I'm sorry, Sharlene, but I'm sticking with my opinion. Now if you want to revise the standards of beauty which are being used to make the comparison, then, yes, there are some women who are more beautiful than you. If you want, you could change the standards of beauty to make almost any woman become the most beautiful in the world. But in my opinion, you're the one who I would vote for as the most beautiful woman in the world. Actually, my opinion of your beauty has only increased as I've gotten to know you as a person and to realize that you are much more than a woman with a gorgeous body. And as I become more accepting of the idea that you want me, I wouldn't trade you for any number of other women who might be offered in exchange."

She thinks about that before she responds, "Even though I don't see myself as beautiful, especially considering the models who are paraded before us on television and other media, I have to believe you feel that way about me. And because you do, I feel flattered and appreciative of your feelings towards me." She gets off of her chair, sits on his upper legs, gives him a good long kiss, and tells him, "Thank you George."

When he can breathe at a normal pace again, he says, "I certainly enjoy your way of thanking me, but I don't deserve it. I'm only trying to honestly express what I see and feel about you. Maybe you ought to wish I didn't find you so attractive."

"No, thank you. I'm glad you find me attractive. That's one of the things I don't understand about myself. I don't seem to be affected by the beauty or lack of beauty of those around me and I certainly don't think of myself as attractive, yet, at the same time, I'm thrilled at the idea that you find me attractive. I revel in your feelings for me. I find myself becoming excited when I see you watch me with desire in your eyes."

Sharlene looks away, hesitates, then says, "I don't know. I don't understand. Is there something weird about me? Or is there something special about you?" She looks back at him and asks, "George Greyson, who are you that you affect me so? When I'm around you, all I want to do is to be close to you, this close or closer."

When he opens his mouth to say something, she clamps it shut with her lips and even as she continues the kiss, she slips off of his upper legs, straddles his legs, and with her feet braced on the back legs of the chair and her arms around him, she pulls herself as tightly to him as she can and kisses him for all she's worth. When she finally lets him breathe, she transfers her kisses to his ears and neck.

While his breathing is still somewhat ragged, he gasps out, "Whoa, lady."

"Sorry, don't want 'whoa', want 'Wow!'."

After the few moments it takes for him to understand what she said, he slides his arms up her back and across her shoulders. His hands follow the neckline of her shirt and while he somewhat awkwardly reaches over her arms, he begins to slowly unbutton her shirt. Since she's excited by this new development, she lowers her legs from the back of the chair legs to brace her feet on the floor which enables her to squirm her lower body on him. Once two of her shirt buttons are undone, to her disappointment only two, he slides his hands back up over her shoulders and with his right hand supporting her neck, he leans over her, pushes her back a little and begins to kiss her neck while his left hand slides down her back, slips under her shirt and starts to caress the bare skin of her back.

She remembers a similar exciting situation which encourages her to lift her feet off of the floor and hook them on the back of the chair. She tilts her hips and spreads her legs then pulls herself tightly to him and rocks her hips, while his hot kisses cover her upper chest and slowly creep lower. As her feeling of pleasure keeps growing which turns her moans into groans, she leaves her left hand behind his head and starts to slide her right hand across the outside of her shirt.

Because she's briefly disappointed that she didn't feel what she wanted, she moves her hand under her shirt and across her upper abdomen. She barely pauses before she pushes her hand under her bra and caresses her own breasts while she imagines that he has somehow acquired another hand to do it. As she feels herself nearing the mountain peak of climax, she slides her right hand down her body, over her pants to between her legs and as she presses on the top of her vulva with her fingers, she cries out in joyous pleasure.

While her cry echoes through the room, his kisses and little tongue caresses follow the neckline of her shirt down to the center of her chest. Soon, she's sliding her hand up and down across her pubic area while the back of her fingers lightly caress the bulge in his pajama bottoms. Quickly, the pleasure builds inside of her towards another peak while she also senses his growing excitement. Somehow, she slips his erect penis out of its pajama imprisonment and as she holds it in the junction of her leg and her pubic area, she slides her fingers up and down along it while her sliding thumb presses through her pants on her vulva.

As his left arm grips her tight and tries to pull her tighter to him while his hips partially lift off of the chair, she cries out with her climax and doesn't immediately notice what his body ejects into the palm of her hand and onto her pants. As she recovers first, she feels wonderful and hopefully satiated, at least for awhile. A little later, she lowers her legs from the back of the chair, sits up, and examines what's on her hand and pants. She reaches around and grabs a napkin off of the table to wipe up the majority of his release before it starts to spread.

* * * * *

2147-08-34 (m5>a1)

Just about then, George becomes aware of the situation and complains, "Not another mess?"

Sharlene quickly leans onto him and attempts to kiss his cares away. When he can't speak due to his shortness of breath, she takes the opportunity to say, "Don't think of it as a mess. Think of it as evidence of your pleasure. I can't say whether or not I like the texture or the smell of it, but I'm glad to see it, because it means I was able to excite you and give you pleasure. And that makes me happy enough I would be inclined to do it again, except that I think you need some time to recover."

As she hugs him tight, she tells him, "Oh George, it makes me so happy to give you pleasure especially when I'm climbing the pleasure mountain with you. I can't tell you how happy I am to have found you and talked you into touching me. It's so wonderful. Your touching and the pleasure you give me keeps getting better, yet I've already run out of words to describe it."

Since he still finds it hard to believe what he's experiencing, it takes him a while to say, "Thank you for touching me and letting me touch you. Nothing in my life comes close to the enjoyment you give me, whether we're giving each other pleasure or just talking while I watch you and listen to your voice. You're my joy and you make me feel like a whole person. Thank you." He attempts to kiss her to breathlessness.

"Mmm, thank you. I really do enjoy your touching and your kisses. I think I'm going to have to back off for awhile or you won't last the day."

"Yeah . . . what a way . . . to go."

"Sorry, old man. You're not going to check out on me this soon. You still have a lot of touching to do yet, and I intend to savor every morsel of it. I'm going to drag you back to bed. Not to wear you out, but to insist that you rest for awhile. Then I'm going to feed you again. After that, we'll see what your condition is to determine what you might be allowed to do for the rest of the day."

Within moments of when she gets him back into bed, he's asleep. After she washes her hands and changes her pants and panty, Sharlene goes back to the dining room and cleans up their breakfast things while she thinks about what to feed him for lunch. Since she has some time to use while he rests, she goes to the 'sorting room' and starts on another box of lingerie.

This one seems to be full of bras of smaller sizes in all kinds of colors and with an amazing variety of shapes and amount of coverage, or deliberate lack of coverage as she gets deeper into the box. As she thinks of the desire which would shine out of his eyes if he should see her wearing one of these, she decides she ought to start trying them out. There's no sense in keeping them if they don't really fit or if they're uncomfortable.

She takes a small sample in colors which won't show through the shirts she brought with her, puts them with the clothes she brought and as she picks one almost at random, she takes her shirt off and changes bras. She looks in the mirror and sees this bra covers almost as much area as her regular bra, but the thin fabric doesn't hide her nipple as she turns to the side and sees a clear bump in the fabric. Since she knows that if the bra isn't immediately uncomfortable, it will take the rest of the day to tell, she puts her shirt back on and goes to the other room to resume her sorting.

When she's finished with that box, she goes to his bedroom and finds his bed empty and the bathroom door closed. As she sits on the bed to wait for him, she looks around the room and, again, she realizes she likes the ambience which the room evokes. Soon, he steps out of the bathroom and she hurries over to him and hugs him tight.

He quickly responds to her hug then proclaims, "Mmm, such a wonderful greeting. What did I do to deserve this?"

"You touched me," she kisses him briefly, "held me," she kisses him again, "hugged me," she gives him a longer kiss, "gave me pleasure," and she kisses him to breathlessness. "My wonderful, wonderful man." Before his breathing is fully recovered, she suggests, "Come on, let's get some more food for my man."

It's only a few minutes after Sharlene has George sit down at the table before she has a meal in front of him.

He suggests, "You really shouldn't give me dessert before the meal."

"What dessert?"

"You." He pulls her to sit on his upper legs, leans her over backwards, and kisses her, with her complete cooperation.

When he sits her back up and tries to catch his breath, she suggests, "If that's the kind of affect I have on you, I'd better take my food to the other room and eat so I don't distract you."

With a firm grip on her with his left arm, he leans onto her, reaches over, grabs her plate, pulls it next to his, and starts to feed her. She responds by feeding him his food, but after a couple of near mishaps of a carrot stick almost up a nose and an apple slice nearly in the eye, they feed themselves even while she remains snugly held on his upper legs.

When they're done eating, she hugs him, kisses him breathless, and, when she can, she tells him, "Thank you for holding me while we ate. Every time you come up with a creative new situation for us to be touching, I'm excitedly wondering what and when and where you're going to creatively touch me the next time. How do you keep coming up with these ideas?"

"It's quite selfishly simple. I want to touch you almost all of the time. It's just a matter of asking myself how can I touch you while we're doing this or that."

"And what are those times you don't want to be touching me?"

"The first thing which comes to mind is when I'm doing chores because it might be potentially harmful to you or get you dirty. I'll easily forego the pleasure of touching you to prevent you from coming to harm."

"I hadn't thought about it from that perspective. Thank you for placing my safety over your pleasure. So, my frisky old man, what had you thought of doing this afternoon?"

"I thought I might look over the yard to see if there was something I forgot to do during the last couple of days. Other than that, I thought I would see if Molly is around and wants some attention."

"I like that idea. Rest here for a couple of minutes while I clean up after lunch."

"Kiss first?"

"Greedy old man."

He doesn't even get, "Yep," out before her kiss makes it seem like it was her idea all along.

Once their shoes are on, they make a slow circuit of the house and yard to pull a weed here or there, but otherwise everything is in order. As they reach the back porch, Molly shows up and in her own subdued way, asks for attention which they gladly give. Once she's apparently satisfied, Molly lays down nearby while they sit in lounge chairs and when he asks, Sharlene tells him more about her education and her year as an engineering intern.

Sometime later, Molly gets up and looks at them as though to say, 'Is this all you're going to do? Sit around and talk? Can't you think of something more exciting to do which includes me?'

When Sharlene points out Molly's expression, George looks at her and asks, "Well, Molly, would a game of futball suit you?"

"Woof."

"Futball? How do you play futball with a canine?" Even as she asks the questions, Sharlene gets up and follows him to the garage.

He explains, "I can't claim it's regulation futball and she may look a little funny chasing the ball, but she's good. I even heard about her showing up at the high school one day when they were playing futball in one of the physical education classes. She out maneuvered half the class while the rest of them were laughing themselves silly." Sharlene watches as he takes a regulation futball from a shelf and after he checks the air pressure, he pumps it up a little more. In the yard, he points out the boundaries and what are used for the goals then he says, "I'll get her started and then I'll let you take over. There's no way I can run enough to get her warmed up, much less tired. At least I assume you know how to play futball."

"Yes. Physical education class, only mine was in college instead of high school."

They start in the center of the 'field' where George gains initial control of the ball and keeps it for maybe thirty seconds before Molly knocks it away and the chase is on. Almost immediately, Sharlene gets in and soon George stops and rests with his hands on his knees and watches them chase each other, although Sharlene does most of the chasing. After a few minutes, Sharlene is stumbling and laughing herself silly. As she staggers near while chasing after Molly, George grabs her around the waist and holds her up until she can calm down and catch her breath.

Molly calmly dribbles the ball near and looks at them while she's barely panting, and her expression seems to say, 'Are you two old fogies worn out already?'

Once Sharlene's laughter is down to occasional chuckles and her breathing is near normal, she asks, "Where did she learn to play like that?"

"I have no idea. I assume it was from watching kids play."

"That's her secret weapon. She looks so silly doing it that you don't realize how good she is until she's running circles around you." Sharlene steps over to Molly, "Isn't that right, girl?"

Molly carefully lays on the ball to protect her possession of it while she gladly accepts Sharlene's petting.

Sharlene looks at George quizzically while she pets Molly.

He explains, "She knows there are breaks or rest periods in the game so she takes a break, but makes sure the possession of the ball doesn't change hands. Only when she figures the game is over does she willingly give up possession of the ball."

A few minutes later, Sharlene stands up and says, "Okay, I guess I'm ready to go again."

"Don't tell me, tell Molly."

"Are you ready, Molly?"

"Woof."

Almost before Sharlene knows it, Molly is off and maintains good control of the ball and Sharlene has to sprint to barely prevent Molly from scoring. A little while later, Sharlene gains control of the ball and is getting near to setting up for a score, when Molly seems to appear out of nowhere and takes control of the ball. After she leads a merry chase around the yard for a couple of more minutes, Molly then heads straight for her goal. Soon, Molly stops the ball, sits down, puts one paw on the ball, looks at them with what appears to be a grin and an expression of, 'I won.'

While she's breathing heavily, Sharlene slowly walks over to Molly and gives her a long hug. When she has enough breath, she says, "Yes, Molly. You won." and gets a single quick lick in return.

When she's breathing at her normal pace, Sharlene stands up and to her surprise, Molly quite clearly kicks the ball to her. After she experimentally kicks it back, they dribble the ball across the yard and to the garage where George picks it up, releases some of the air pressure and puts in back on the shelf.

* * * * *

2147-08-34 (a2>e1)

They walk to the back porch, George stretches out on one of the lounge chairs, and, to his pleasant surprise, Sharlene lays on top of him and wraps his arms around her. A moment later, Molly crawls up onto the bottom of the lounge chair and rests her head on Sharlene's thigh and closes her eyes in pleasure as they scratch behind her ears and pet her. Some minutes later, Molly gets up, goes over to the garage to get something to eat and drink, then heads off on some unknown activity.

After she pulls up the bottom of her shirt so his hands are on her bare skin, Sharlene snuggles closer to him and hums in pleasure as his hands caress her upper abdomen while he nuzzles her neck through her hair and nibbles on her ears. Although it could easily turn into passion, for now, his touches are very comfortable and pleasurable as she soaks in the warm feeling and thoroughly relaxes. Awhile later, she thinks that if she's any more comfortable and pleasurably relaxed, she'll be like gelatin warming up and melting into a puddle. A number of more minutes pass in comfortable silence before she's aware he's stopped caressing her, but just before she can say something, she hears a soft snore behind her. As she smiles to herself, she lets her body relax again, her mind drifts, and it's not long before she dozes off.

* * * * *

A movement brings her out of her doze and she realizes it had been his hands which had started to slide across her bare skin then suddenly stop. A moment later, he asks, "Sharlene?"

"Yes, George?"

"Oh, good. I halfway woke up and was enjoying the sensation of your body on top of mine, your hair in my face and your bare skin under my hands when it dawned on me that I don't normally wake up to a nice body on top of mine. I'm glad you don't mind me touching your bare skin." He resumes his caresses.

"Mind? Of course I don't mind, I want you to touch me. I'm the one who pulled up the bottom of my shirt so you can touch my bare skin. I want you to touch more of my bare skin, but I'm trying to be patient for the journey to catch up to the desires you've woken up inside of me."

"Mmm, I'm glad."

"Glad about what?"

"I'm glad about all of it. That you want me to touch you. That you pulled up the bottom of your shirt so I can touch your bare skin. That you want me to touch more of you. And that you're trying to be patient."

As she notices that he missed a point, she asks, "Aren't you glad to have awakened my desires?"

"Yes and no. I'm not sure I can claim credit for that. I'm somewhat concerned that your desires and wanting to fulfill them may interfere with what you want or need to accomplish in life. I'm thrilled that you're allowing me to be a part of the expression of your desires, but I have doubts about me being able to fulfill your desires or meet your expectations."

"Based on what's happened so far, I have no doubts that you'll be able to meet my desires. The only expectation I'm consciously aware of is that I want you to keep touching me. Your touching pleases me. I know it's selfish, but the only thing I want or need to accomplish in life is the fulfillment of my desires by your hands and body.

"Please don't tell Mariam that. I know that the purpose and idea of Digital Empathy is important, but Mariam is the real motivation. The value I bring to the company is more the encouragement I give to Mariam and the clean strong emotions I record. I have doubts about the emotions, after all, how much variation is there in the feelings felt between one recording of intimate pleasure and another."

"I certainly can't answer that, but I think you might be surprised how some people will be able to sense the differences and that your variations will find a willing audience. Actually, I'm curious myself as to what your feelings are like. You certainly seem to find pleasure in our touching, but I have no idea what it feels like to you. Does some touching feel much better than other kinds of touching? I don't know because you haven't expressed much of a preference."

"That's because I've enjoyed all of your touching. For you to touch my bare skin across my upper abdomen like you are doing now is very pleasant, very enjoyable. It's not sexually exciting at the moment, but you could easily make it become so. The only preference I can think of in regards to your touching is more. . . . Hold it, did you say you wanted to know what my feelings were like?"

"Oh, yes."

Since she's surprised at his clear answer, she asks, "Why?"

"I've always wondered what intimate pleasure felt like to a woman. Even more so, I've wondered what it feels like to you. I've enjoyed watching the pleasure grow in you and peak and soon grow again and peak. From all that I can tell, it's real pleasure. It doesn't work that way in a man."

"Let me assure you, George, that my expression of pleasure is very real. I would have to do some serious thinking about how to fake it and I never considered myself much of an actress to pull off something like that. Anyway, while we're going to make every effort to keep the emoters completely anonymous, I'm saving all of my emotional downloads on my computer. When we get the company set up and the headbands available for people to experience the emotions, I'll make sure you get a headband. Now you have me curious about what your reaction will be to my emotional recordings. Oh well, another exercise in patience."

"So, what do we do while we're trying to be patient for the future to arrive?"

"What I want to do would mean that I severely failed one of my exercises in patience. I suppose it's late enough we ought fix dinner and then maybe we can come up with some other safe distraction."

He gently pushes on her as he says, "Okay, up you go."

"You don't have to chase me off so quickly."

"I don't want to, but I have another sort of distraction which is become very insistent."

As she gets up, she says, "In that case, don't let me get in your way."

She follows him into the house then realizes his bladder must have been very insistent since he steps into the half bathroom in the laundry room rather than walks the few extra steps into his own bathroom. After she takes care of her own bathroom needs, she goes to the kitchen and is just starting to look over the menu plan when he steps up behind her, hugs her, kisses the top of her head, and tells her, "Thank you for laying on me and letting me hug you and touch you."

She turns in his embrace, pulls his head down, and kisses him. When she has enough breath, she tells him, "Thank you for touching me and letting me lay on you. I very much enjoyed laying on you and relaxing and having you hold me. Sometimes I think you're just too good to me. I've never felt so comfortable and comforted. Just peacefully laying there with you holding me was wonderful. I know it would be impractical, but I can almost imagine staying that close to you for the rest of my life."

She caresses his face with a hand before she adds, "The only reason I would have wanted to move would have been to roll over to kiss you and share more intimate touching." She gently pulls his head down by his beard and kisses him again. While she rests her head on his shoulder, she waits until his breathing has settled, then gently pushes him away and tells him "I'm sorry George, I need a distraction. Let's make dinner."

While they start to prepare dinner, they seem to be able to function fairly well without interfering with each other's tasks. Although her comments and attention seem to be devoted to the tasks at hand, George is both pleasantly surprised and a little worried that whenever they step near each other to accomplish their tasks, Sharlene seems to touch or sidle up to him. He almost cuts himself as he starts to give more thought about what to do for her rather than pay attention to what he's doing. While she keeps an eye on the cooking food, he cleans up the preparation utensils. It's almost a strain for them to keep the light conversation to 'safe' topics during dinner.

* * * * *

2147-08-34 (e2)

After dinner, she volunteers to clear the table. As she comes back to the table for a second load, she 'accidentally' bumps his right shoulder with her left hip and stands leg to leg with him to gather the last things on the table. He reaches down and slides his right hand up the back of her left leg which causes her to gasp and brace herself on the table. Since she's excitedly anticipating the coming pleasure, she closes her eyes to concentrate on the message of pleasure which is surging along her nerves.

He slides his hand down and moves it to the back of her right leg where he more slowly slides it up to the middle of her thigh. As his hand caresses down her leg, he scoots his chair back a little, puts his left hand on her hip and as his right hand moves to her left leg and slowly up it, he scoots his chair forward a little and gently pushes his right knee between her legs. As she responds to the pressure of his knee, she spreads her legs slightly, while his right hand slides up the inside of her left leg to the middle of her thigh. His caressing hand slowly goes down that leg then crosses to her right leg and up the inside of her leg to the middle of her thigh, which causes her to groan, then his hand caresses down the back of her leg.

When his hand slides up the back of her right leg, she's surprised at how quickly the pleasure builds and whether it's her remembered pleasure or her anticipated pleasure which adds to the actual pleasure, she almost cries out when his hand slides to the inside of her right thigh and then down the inside of her thigh. As his right hand slowly ascends the inside of her left thigh, his left hand pulls up the bottom of her shirt and slips under it to caress the bare skin of her back which elicits a gasp on top of her groan of pleasure. After his right hand comes down her left leg, it moves to her right leg and moves back and forth between the back and inside of her leg while it slowly climbs her leg which sends her pleasure even higher until his hand reaches the middle of her thigh and her cry bursts forth.

While she's breathing heavily, she feels his right hand slowly descend her right leg and then moves to the left leg to move back and forth between the back and inside of her leg while it moves slowly upward to the middle of her thigh. When his right hand slowly goes down the back and inside of her left leg, she feels his left hand leave her back, go over her hip and down the outside of her left leg, then in unison, his hands slowly caress her respective legs from the back, around the outside and front to the inside of each of her thighs before they reverse direction, go up a little and repeat the movement to the insides of her thighs. With each upward movement of his hands, her pleasure grows until she again cries out with her climax when his hands reach the middle of her thighs.

She takes a little longer to recover this time, then she's surprised to feel that he's still touching her and apparently was slowly sliding his hands back and forth down her legs. As his hands reach her knees, she feels his hands spread wide and reach around each leg as far as possible to slowly slide up the fronts and part of the outsides and insides of her legs and then down. When his hands go back up her legs, she feels them on the insides of her legs as well, but the pleasure takes all of her attention. As she feels his hands go down, she summons up the last of her reasoning ability, half opens her eyes, and sees that his knee is sliding down between her legs in coordination with his hands.

When his hands and knee go up her legs again, she feels like they're going to go right up through her and when she cries out in pleasure, her legs give way and as she slumps down onto his right leg, it goes all of the way up the insides of her legs which sends her pleasure through the roof. Since the pleasure overwhelms her, she's not aware enough to take advantage of his leg between hers, and she's only barely aware when he lifts her off of his leg, slides his chair around a little, sits her on his upper legs, pulls her bracing hands up off of the table, and holds her.

Many minutes later, she stirs in an attempt to cuddle closer and proclaims, "Oh George, that was glorious. Thank you."

He kisses the top of her head then responds, "Good. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I'm afraid that 'enjoy' is an inadequate word, but since I can't think of something better at the moment, yes, I enjoyed it very very much. Thank you. I want to demonstrate how thankful I am, but I think I'm too tired right now."

"The best demonstration of your thanks is for me to know that you enjoyed it. For me to know that you experienced pleasure and enjoyed it is all I need to know to make life have meaning."

It's quite a few minutes later before she feels enough strength to sit up and kiss him. She has to wait a little longer for her breathing to settle in order to tell him, "Thank you, George. As I was thinking back, it seemed like I became very excited more quickly than usual."

"It seemed like you were more anxious to be touched than usual."

She thinks for little while then says, "You're right, I was. So you figured if I was that anxious, you had better touch me before I pushed it too far."

"I hadn't consciously thought of it that clearly, but it was the direction of my thoughts. So when you stepped up so close, I took advantage of you."

"No, George. You didn't take advantage of me, you took advantage of the situation and gave me what I needed and what I was non-verbally asking for. Thank you. You did what was right and necessary, as well as wonderful. If you hadn't have touched me when you did, I probably would have gotten so wound up, you would have had to forcibly stop me which would have been painful for both of us. Again, you're my knight in shining armor who rescued the maiden in distress, even if it was a distress of her own making. Thank you, my hero." She kisses him breathless then snuggles closer to him while he slowly brings his breathing under control. "Now that I'm calmer, did you have some suggestions for this evening?"

"The last couple of days, I've felt like I was leaving something undone and it dawned on me a little while ago, that I haven't checked my mailbox."

"Where is it? I don't remember seeing it when we drove up."

"It's down at the road near the end of my driveway. It's somewhat hidden so not too many people are aware that it's there."

"Can we walk down?"

"I'm usually lazy and drive down, but we can walk."

"It sounds like fun."

She hops off of his upper legs, turns, gives him another kiss, and as his eyes follow her as she goes around the corner towards the hall, she appears to be skipping with her long black hair swishing back and forth across her back. He slowly follows down the hall, goes to the bathroom, then returns to the dining room to finish clearing the table and with her help, he quickly cleans up the kitchen.

Moments later, he opens a drawer at the end of the kitchen and pulls out a handgun. Without noticing her surprised look, he checks to see that it's loaded and slips it into the waist band of his pants. Although she doesn't recognize what type it is, it's clearly more powerful than a .22 caliber which is what she's used to, so she asks, "George, do you need that?"

"Probably not, but I want to get in the habit of carrying it. I know the odds of needing it are very small and I know you're very capable of protecting yourself, but if there's even a small chance of it making a difference in keeping you safe, then I'll carry it. Do you want a .22?"

"No, thank you. I'll rely on my hero."

"Humph. Do you have your key to the house?"

"Um, no."

"If you don't mind, I would feel better if you carried it with you."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

While she gets it, he makes sure the other doors are locked and when they go out the front door, he locks it behind him. As they step across the driveway, he points out a path to her and explains, "I'm sorry I didn't show it to you before, but here's the path to go to Paula and Paul's."

They start to walk down the driveway while they hold hands. Soon, Molly shows up to walk beside one or the other of them or bounds off to chase an interesting sound or smell. When they get to the end of the driveway, he opens the mail box and she sees that it's fairly well hidden. He quickly reviews the mail, writes 'Refused' across a couple of them, tosses them back into the mail box, closes it, and they start to walk back up the driveway.

"Why did you write 'Refused' on a couple of pieces of mail?"

"Junk mail."

"What?"

He looks at her a moment then explains, "Although most people aren't aware of it and most companies try to keep it out of the news, there is a law on the books which says that if you receive mail you don't want and didn't request such as junk mail, you can write 'Refused' on the mail and the postal system will send it back to the sender at first class rates. When the law first went into effect, some companies tried to refuse to accept and pay for the returned junk mail. The postal system simply refused to accept or deliver any mail to that company until they agreed to accept and pay for the returned junk mail. The postal system makes money on the mail being returned at first class rates and consumers get less junk mail because companies have become more careful about who they send their advertising junk to."

"You mean there used to be more junk mail than there is now?"

He nods his head as he answers, "By far. It used to be that my mail box was about eighty percent junk mail, now it's more like twenty percent junk." He holds up the mail in his hand and clarifies, "Some of this is still junk, but it goes into my compost because the worms like certain kinds of paper, at least that's what I've read and so far I haven't seen my worms go on strike for being given the wrong kind of paper."

Sharlene chuckles at the image then says, "Maybe you just haven't looked closely enough. After all, worms are pretty small and their protest signs would be even smaller. Oh, and the language barrier. Would they even write their signs in standard? I don't know, George.

"Maybe I should become a self-appointed protector of the rights of worms. Just think of the millions, no, billions of worms without legal protection who have to live in the refuse of the world while they convert our garbage into usable soil, and they do so without getting paid or receiving medical or retirement benefits. On behalf of the World Of Worms, the organization which is striving to protect the rights of worms the world over, I congratulate you, George Greyson, on your efforts to at least provide your worms with a well-rounded diet of compost and preferred paper products."

When their laughter dies down, he suggests, "You forgot the most important thing."

"What's that?"

"For just twenty credits a year, you can sponsor your own worm and make sure that it too is well cared for in the location of its choice. Call now, operators are standing by. If you feel stirred by the plight of worms the world over, for a small donation of only forty credits, we will send you information about how you can help the worms in your own community live richer and fuller lives. Be sure to visit our online site at world of worms where you can learn more about worms or even make your contribution online. All major credit cards are gladly accepted."

As she laughs again, she asks, "So, is that our new calling in life?"

He shakes his head and responds, "No. There are already too many shysters out there as it is. Besides, I would feel horrible at the number of people who would gullibly send in their money, especially if they believed it was true, just because it was on television."

* * * * *

2147-08-34 (e3)

When they arrive back at the house, they spend some time petting Molly before they go in. He pulls the handgun out of his pants waistband, and as he opens the drawer to put it away, she asks, "What kind is it?"

"It's a forty five caliber." He holds it out to her with it laying flat on the palm of his hand.

Sharlene holds up her hands and says, "Sorry, George. I don't know anything about it and don't know how to safely check it."

"Smart lady. You've used Paula's .22 haven't you?"

"Yes. It's the same model you let me borrow the first day you took me to the swamp."

"So it is." He takes a towel out of the drawer the handgun came from, lays it on the counter, sets the handgun on top of it, and points out where the features from the .22, like the safety and clip release, are located on the .45.

Now that she knows where things are, she asks, "May I?" while she points at the .45. With a wave of his hand, he conveys his permission while he carefully watches her. She competently unloads the weapon and makes sure there's not a round in the chamber and when she's satisfied that it's perfectly safe to handle, only then does she look it over and test its weight and balance at the end of her arm. "I could probably handle it for a few rounds, but I think it would get heavy rather quickly, especially fully loaded. I assume it has a bit of kick." She sets it back on the towel and watches as he reloads it and puts it away.

"I'm afraid so. How do you like your aunt's .22?"

"It fits my hand nicely, but its weight is light enough, it almost feels like a toy. I'm fairly competent with it in a shooting range setting, but I wouldn't want to have to rely on my accuracy to improve its stopping power in a protection setting."

"It's good that you know your limitations." He picks up another handgun from the drawer, sets it on the towel, and suggests, "Here, try this one."

As she looks it over carefully without touching it, she points, "Is this the clip release?"

"Yes."

Again, she competently unloads the weapon and checks it out. "It feels more like a weapon than the .22. I think I could handle the weight, although the grip is a little large for me to comfortably hold with one hand. What's the caliber?"

While he rummages in the drawer, he explains, "It's a .38, its stopping power is roughly halfway between the .22 and the .45." With a screwdriver, he quickly removes the hand grips and replaces them. "Try it now."

"That's much better. I'd have to try it with live ammo, but it feels good."

"Good. It's yours."

She looks at him in surprise then asks, "What?"

"I said it's yours."

"You've already given me so much, I can't take your handgun too."

"Actually, lovely lady, you would be doing me a favor. Even with the larger hand grips, it doesn't fit my hand right, so I don't like to use it. I would much prefer to see you use it rather than have it sit in my drawer and rust."

"In that case, I happily accept," she carefully sets it down on the towel, says, "Thank you," and demonstrates it with a thorough kiss.

"Do you want to put it with your luggage?"

"If I can, I would prefer to try it out first to see if it feels as good while I fire it."

"Good idea. I'll put it back in the drawer for now. Just so you know where it's at, I have a spot for it here along with a few boxes of ammunition."

"What's the kick like on it?"

"Surprisingly, it's not much more than the .22."

"I don't mean to be nosy, but how come you have it if you don't like it?"

"I had originally purchased it for one of my daughters, but she refused to take it with her. That's when I bought the larger hand grips, but I still didn't like how it felt. I don't mean to make it sound like I'm dumping my unusable stuff on you, but if you can use it, I would much prefer to give it to you rather than try to sell it or give it to someone else."

"Don't worry, George. I know your thought is more about whether I can benefit from it, than whether you can clean out a drawer or a closet. By the way, I greatly appreciate the lingerie. I haven't tried on much yet, but I'm looking forward to trying on more and then sharing it with you. I'm sure you'll find some of it very enticing."

"Young lady, I already find you very enticing. If you're dressed in something you think might be enticing, I'll probably find it maddeningly provocative." He taps the end of her nose with a finger and tells her, "You just be careful, my sexy lady. If you tell me you're wearing something provocative under those conservative clothes, I may rip those clothes off to see the hidden beauty. Then when I look upon your perfection, I'll either turn into a drooling idiot or you'll have to shoot this mad dog to protect yourself. And before you get me distracted onto a subject requiring a tactile discussion, let me put these away."

"Mmm, I like the idea of a tactile discussion, but you getting your mail reminded me that I ought to check mine. Shall we put off the other subject for a little while?"

"That would probably be best."

"When I'm done checking my email, where should I look for you?"

"Probably either here or at my desk."

She kisses him thoroughly then asks, "Will that hold you for awhile?"

"Like an . . . appetizer."

"You greedy old man."

"That's right."

While he goes through his mail, she checks her phone for messages while her computer boots up. When she sees a message from Klara, she winces at noticing that it came in two days ago. After she takes a deep breath, she dials Klara's number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Klara. It's Sharlene. I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you."

Klara laughs then says, "Sharlene, I'm not so old that I don't remember how distracting being in love can be. And don't try to deny it, I heard it in your voice the last couple of times we talked."

"Really?"

"Really. When you tried to say George, it came out more like, 'ahhh, Geoorrrgggee'. I may not understand what you find attractive in that old man, but it's your choice. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I received formal notification from the Institute that the Project will officially be going on the market on the second, there will be an official presentation and dinner on the fourth, individual demonstrations will be available at scheduled times during the next two weeks, and bidding proposals will be accepted up through the eleventh. The Institute will review the proposals during the following week and announce the winning proposal on the twentieth. With that I mind, I plan on flying in there on the first, spend a fair bit of time making a nuisance of myself around the Project, submitting a proposal somewhere around the ninth through the eleventh and then fly out again shortly thereafter."

"That's sounds great, Klara. Do you want me to have a bedroom set up for you?"

"I appreciate the thought, but I think we had better keep our contact down to a more socially acceptable level of family acquaintance for now. I've already made arrangements for a hotel room and a rental vehicle. I'll probably impose on you for a couple of meals."

"I have no problem with that. Shall I plan on having a meal ready for you when you come in on the first?"

"Um, sure, Sharlene, I'd like that. My flight gets in around sixteen hundred. By the time I get my luggage and the rental vehicle, I should be ready to leave the airport by seventeen hundred. How far is it to your place?"

"On a first-day afternoon, it shouldn't be more than about a half of an hour. I'll send directions to your email. If your hotel is near the Institute, then that won't be more than a few minutes away. Do you think it would be appropriate to have Mariam join us for dinner?"

"Probably not yet, maybe the following weekend. Let me get a feel for the atmosphere before you make definite plans."

"Okay. Is there anything I can do or organize ahead of time to help you or make your stay more pleasant?"

"No. An occasional friendly meal will be nice, but other than that, I'm quite used to managing by myself when I travel. I know it's none of my business, but I'm interested in meeting George. I've watched you from the sidelines for a number of years and I don't recall you expressing any interest in the males of the species and then out of the blue, you're crazy over some guy who is almost old enough to be your grandfather. To say the least, I'm very curious. You know he's been married before."

"Yes, for over thirty years and he has two daughters who apparently don't have much interest in staying in touch with him. He's told me quite a bit about himself and he's always answered my own curious questions. He's also clearly pointed out what he sees as his faults and has tried to convince me that I deserve to be with someone younger and much better than him."

* * * * *

2147-08-34 (e4)

Klara tries to minimize the expression of her surprise, "Really? He hasn't tried to convince you that his maturity makes him a more gentle and knowledgeable lover or something like that."

Sharlene chuckles then says, "Not at all. His comments are more like the opposite of that. Yet, I've never met a man who I'm more comfortable being around. He's gentle, kind, and considerate. He's made it clear that he desires me, but only one time has he touched me without permission and that was to touch my hand while he explained something and he immediately apologized. If he's pulling the wool over my eyes or deceiving me or anything along those lines, then he's a better actor than anybody I've seen in the movies or on television. I'd better leave it at that. I really don't want to influence your impression of him, but I'll ask you to not make a snap decision based on your first impression of his external appearance. Talk to him awhile, listen to him, and then form your opinion."

"That's only fair. I know you didn't intend to insult me, but I learned a long time ago to pay little attention to external appearances. I've also learned to take advantage of my own external appearance to put people off of their guard. So I can easily agree to take some time to get to know him. You sound mighty confident in your own opinion of him."

"I am. I'm also aware I could be missing something or be overly enamored with his touching, but Aunt Paula approves of him and it's hard to fool her. Mariam is down-to-earth and is much more experienced than I am in regards to female-male relationships and she approves of him. So their opinions add a layer of confidence that my own opinion isn't just infatuation or something."

"I'm glad to hear you're still using your brain. Well, Sharlene, if nothing comes up beforehand, I'll see you on first-day."

"I look forward to it, Klara. I'll see you then."

"Take care."

"Goodbye."

As she looks over her email, Sharlene doesn't see anything which should impact them making any plans, so she goes to the library and asks, "George?"

"Yes, love."

"Do you mind if we go back to my place on sixth-day instead of first-day as we had originally planned?"

"No, did something come up?"

"Klara will be flying in on first-day and I invited her to dinner. I would prefer to have most of a day to prepare."

"That sounds reasonable. Do you want me to come down later so you have some time to meet with her alone?"

She pushes his chair away from his desk, sits on his upper legs, hugs him, and says, "Absolutely not. I want you with me. Besides, lover boy," she caresses his face with just the tip of her left hand index finger, "she wants to meet you. She wonders what I find so attractive about such an old man."

"I've wondered that myself."

After she thoroughly kisses him, she 'accuses' him, "And I suppose no matter how often I tell you, you'll still wonder."

He responds between panted breaths, "Probably. . . . I'm slowly accepting . . . the fact that . . . you want me, . . . but I still don't . . . understand it."

"As long as you accept that I want you and that you keep wanting me, then I'm not worried about whether you understand it or not. I don't fully understand it, so how can I expect you to. I didn't mean to interrupt you, but I wanted to let you know about Klara's plans."

He waits until his breathing settles before he says, "I look forward to your interruptions, lovely lady. What about us fixing dinner for Paula and Paul? If I remember right, we had thought about doing that on sixth-day."

"Is there any problem with doing that tomorrow night?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

She pulls her phone out and hits a speed dial number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Aunt Paula."

"Hey, Sharlene, what's up?"

"George and I had thought about coming down and fixing dinner for you and Uncle Paul sometime. Would tomorrow night work for you guys?"

"Yeah. Um, would it be too much of an imposition to have dinner at George's, I'm feeling like I need a change from the same four walls."

"George, would it be okay if we had them here for dinner?"

"Sure."

"George says that would be okay."

"Yeah, I heard him. He must be close by."

Sharlene chuckles then says, "You could say that. I'm sitting on his lap."

"He's letting you sit on his lap while you talk to your aunt? Are you sure he's not feeling sick or something?"

"No. Why?"

"I know George can show a lot of restraint, but any healthy man with a pretty girl sitting on their lap would be finding something more interesting to do than to let her talk to her aunt."

"Huh? Oh. Here I thought he was being a gentleman. Now that you mention it, there does seem to be a bit of a strange gleam in his eye."

Paula sounds suspicious, "Are you sure you're Sharlene? A few weeks ago, you wouldn't have known what that strange gleam was, but now I have a strong suspicion you not only know what it means, but you encourage it."

Sharlene laughs then says, "Guilty as charged. A few weeks ago, if I had had a crystal ball with which to see the future, I would have been shocked at my current behavior. But somehow, it's the right way to behave with this lovely old man."

"Humm. Well don't wear him out, I would prefer to have dinner with you two there, rather than in some hospital room."

"That's a good point. Okay, I'll try to go easy on him. So, we'll see you after you close the store tomorrow?"

"Give us a little time to change. If we're going to be later than that, we'll give you a call."

"Okay. Take care."

"Goodbye."

Sharlene disconnects the call, sets her phone down, turns to him, and kisses him. When she lets him breath, she says, "Aunt Paula thought a healthy man would find something more interesting to do with a pretty girl on his lap rather than to let her talk to her aunt. So I thought I would see how you're feeling. You feel really good to me. I don't know what she's worried about."

He turns his head, begins to kiss her neck, slides his left hand up her back to cup her neck, pulls up the bottom of her shirt, and slides his right hand under it to begin caressing the bare skin of her upper abdomen. With his lips snug on her neck, he blows hard and begins to tickle her with his right hand. She immediately shrieks with laughter and squirms with his tickles until he stops and hugs her to him. When her laughter diminishes and her breathing approaches a normal pace, he asks with a voice of innocence, "Was that something more interesting?"

"You!!" She kisses him breathless, "That was more different rather than more interesting as you perfectly well know."

"Finished . . . what you . . . were doing?"

"No. You're right. I had better finish what I was doing before I get distracted with more interesting things." She gives him another kiss, but keeps it shorter, before she hops up and goes back to deal with her email. She's able to quickly take care of it, but to give him some more time to deal with his own mail, she downloads the recent recordings from her ERD. In addition to her recognizable intimate pleasure, she sees two other types of clean strong emotions and one which is strong, but has a number of underlying emotions. As she checks the times, she sees that the two similar ones were when she played with Molly yesterday and played futball with Molly today and tentatively labels them as 'fun'. Based on the time of the third one, it was her concern for the shock she had given him.

She's about to quit the software when she notices another brief peak from just a few minutes ago and she realizes it must have been when he was tickling her. Although it's probably too short to use commercially or therapeutically, she still makes some brief notes of what was happening. When that's done, she shuts her computer down, puts it away, and goes to see what he's doing. As she steps up behind his chair, she places her hands on his shoulders and begins to partially massage his shoulders and up to his neck.

He sets his pen down, proclaims, "Mmm, that's nice," and leans back in the chair to enjoy her touching.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you that much," she turns her massage into more of a friendly touching. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just finishing up balancing my check book against my bank statement."

"Have you received your medical bills yet?"

"Not yet. My guess is the medical center and other providers are probably arguing with the insurance company. From overhearing others who had major surgeries or emergency treatment, it will probably be another few weeks before they get the major portions agreed to and bill me. I hadn't expected any bills yet, but who knows when they're going to get their act together."

She requests, "If you don't mind, when you do get your medical bills, I would like to go over them. I may not be real familiar with what things cost, but I do know which tests and treatments I authorized. And don't forget, if you're going to have trouble paying for them, let me know. I know you don't want to feel like you're imposing on me or taking my money, but I did authorize some extensive tests and some expensive treatments, so I don't want you to hurt yourself financially because of my decisions."

"I think I'll be okay, but if I find that I'm going to have trouble paying medical bills, we'll talk about it. I don't intend for you to hurt yourself financially to cover my medical bills."

"Let's just leave it at 'we'll talk about it'. Okay?"

He hesitates before he agrees, "Okay. While I put my stuff away, let me tell you what I was thinking about for tomorrow. I thought we could let you try out the .38 handgun in the morning and see how you like it. If you do like it, then you can take it with you when we go back to your place on sixth-day. In the afternoon, I was considering going to one of the guys in town who raises chickens and get a couple to cook up for Paula and Paul for dinner tomorrow. I have a recipe to slow cook them on the grill which takes a few hours, but can stay on the grill longer without overcooking. That will give some flexibility in case they have a last minute customer or something. With that said, do you have some ideas about tomorrow or have something in mind for the rest of the evening?"

"That sounds fine for tomorrow. As for this evening, I can't decide. What would probably be best would be for you to read to me until you get tired and then safely tuck you away in bed."

* * * * *

2147-08-34 (e5)

A moment later, Sharlene leans over his back, slides her hands down the front of his shirt, begins to nibble on his right ear, and whispers, "What I really want to do is touch and be touched." She slides her hands back up his shirt and starts to unbutton it, as she admits, "Even though that might get us more excited than we want to control."

As she starts to caress the bare skin of his chest, he lifts his right hand to behind her head, pulls it down a little to nibble on her ear and whispers back, "I know what you mean." He closes his mouth around her earlobe and gently sucks on it. Before she can decide how much she likes it, his lips begin to nibble their way along her jaw line and when they lock onto her lips, she forgets all else . . . until he needs to breathe again. She pulls his chair away from the desk, straddles his legs, pulls herself close, starts to unbutton her shirt, but his hands capture hers before she can get the third button unbuttoned and he suggests, "Please, not yet."

He begins to kiss, nibble, and tongue caress the palms of her hands then her wrists, and when he starts up her arms, she lets the enjoyment take over. When his lips reach her neck and do their magic there, it just seems natural for her to lift her feet, brace them on the back of the chair, spread her legs, and pull herself as tightly to him as she can. As she starts to rock her hips, she's surprised when she thinks she can feel his growing bulge even through the thickness of both of their pants. Even if she's imaging the feel of it, she knows it's there and she knows that its growing means he wants her.

That awareness and the feel of his kisses as they go down the bare skin of her chest, elevate her pleasure. As she squirms her body on his, she trails her fingers on his bare chest, and when his left arm around her back tightens its grip to pull her tighter and moves with the squirming of her hips, she grabs his belt to pull him closer as her excitement grows, and grows, and as his hips come out of the chair while he lifts hers, she cries out in pleasure while he holds the tension a moment longer before he slumps back onto the chair.

After a little while, she sits up, slips her arms into his unbuttoned shirt to hug him while she kisses his face and nibbles on his ears. "Thank you, I needed that. I don't know why I was getting so anxious for you to excite me. You've already excited me twice before today. Do you have any idea of what's going on?"

"No. I could make a number of wild guesses, but I don't know why you've been more anxious for excitement today."

"Even though I don't understand it, I'm certainly enjoying it and greatly appreciate your willingness to indulge me. Thank you," and she thoroughly kisses him.

He waits until his breathing settles before he responds, "Thank you. You've sure been getting an old man excited today."

She puts on her best clinical face and asks, "May I assume by that statement, sir, that your penis became erect and that you had an ejaculation?"

"You assume correctly, Doctor."

"That's wonderful."

"Wonderful? It's a bit of a mess."

"Messes can be washed up. It's wonderful because it means you're getting excited and receiving pleasure while I'm getting excited and receiving pleasure. The last thing I want is for our relationship to be one-sided. If the mess is a problem, I'll gladly help you wash it up."

"Um, I think that would make me feel guilty for not taking care of my own problems. At the same time, you touching me like that would probably get me all excited again."

She leans forward to kiss his face then moves her lips to nibble on his ear where she huskily whispers, "Would that be so bad?"

As he nibbles on her ear in return, he whispers back, "Not when I feel free to touch you in return."

She enjoys his nibbling which starts to move along her neck before she responds, "Mmm, you probably have a valid point there. So, what are some of your wild guesses?"

He stops his kisses, lifts his head, looks at her, and asks, "Wild guesses?"

"Yes, your wild guesses about why I've been more anxious for excitement today."

"I'd better stop kissing you if I'm going to try to bring the wildly excited firing of my few remaining brain cells under control and into some sort of functioning ability. Some wild guesses; a change in mood, relief at pulling me out of my dream state this morning, and I think there was something else. Oh, some women become more or less interested in intimate pleasure depending on their hormonal levels which vary during their menstrual cycle. Or having fun playing futball with Molly this afternoon encouraged you to be interested in other kinds of fun. Like I said, wild guesses."

"Well I don't have any better ideas. I guess we'll just have to see if I have more days of such anxiety. I'll certainly enjoy it, but I can see how it could distract one from regularly scheduled or extended activities such as work."

"Sharlene, I've been rather concerned about me distracting you along those lines."

"But if I'm going to be the president of the company, then I can set up my own rules. That's it. Since it's a new company just starting out, I'm going to need at least twice daily private consultations with you as my ideas man, in my soundproofed office."

"Except that I don't have that many ideas and with twice daily consultations of the nature you're suggesting, I'll be too distracted to think of any ideas."

"No you won't."

Since he's puzzled by her response, he looks at her and asks, "I won't?"

"I don't have to tell anyone that the ideas I want from you are ideas on how to touch me."

As he gladly responds to her thorough kiss, he's ready to give up breathing as a distraction and an interference.

"Poor, George. It's bad enough I wear you out, but I should at least let you breathe. And don't you go saying, 'what a way to go.' That's pretty selfish on your part. I really shouldn't be talking. I selfishly want to keep you around so I can be touched. I'm afraid you've got yourself a pretty selfish woman, because I really do think more in terms of you touching me, than in terms of us sharing touching."

"And I'm just as selfishly thinking that the more I please you, the more I enjoy the pleasure of touching you. So don't think you're the only selfish one here."

She thinks for a moment then says, "I suppose that maybe as our anxiousness for touching reduces somewhat, we can think more in terms of sharing the pleasure. I know you disagree, but I still think your attitude about the situation is better than mine."

"Well, I have no intention of arguing about it. I'd better go get washed up. Do you have any safe ideas for after that?"

"Maybe read to me for awhile?"

"I can do that."

Although his hands move to her hips in order to lift her up, she stops him with another long kiss before she gets up. She gives him a chance to catch his breath then holds out her hands to help him up and they walk down to the other end of the house together.

"It's a good thing I'm not driving tonight."

She asks in surprise, "Why do you say that?"

"I'd get arrested for drunk driving."

"But you haven't been drinking."

"I've been drinking your kisses." He kisses her as long as he can before he turns and stumbles into his bedroom.

She barely resists following him into his bedroom to make sure he doesn't fall. When all she hears is him in his closet and then the bathroom door closing, she goes to her bedroom, at least that's how she's thinking of it, to get a clean panty. A moment later, she changes her mind, goes to the 'lingerie sorting room', picks out several of the more conservative panties to add to her luggage, grabs one at random, and goes to the bathroom, washes up, and changes. A couple of minutes later, she carries a couple of drinks to the love seat just as he comes down the hall after he changed into a sweat suit.

They sit on the love seat and after he takes a long drink, he's glad she snuggles up to him while she sits on his upper legs then he begins to read to her. After awhile, she slips her left hand under the bottom of his sweat shirt to somewhat absentmindedly caress his chest which causes him to stumble over a number of words. A little later, he relaxes some to read more normally while he enjoys her caresses. When he pauses for a moment to take a drink, he becomes aware that she's been occasionally twitching so he asks, "Is something the matter?"

"I'm trying out one of the panties from the boxes of lingerie and it feels different than I'm used to. I can't say yet whether it's good or bad, just different. I suppose it's the lace trim I'm not used to."

"That's something I've wondered about. I know I like to see lace on a woman's body, but most of the laces I've felt are rather scratchy and I can't imagine that on sensitive skin."

"I know what you mean about scratchy lace. This didn't feel scratchy to my hand, but maybe it's just scratchy enough to be noticed without being irritating. I'll just have to wear it a little longer to see if I get used to it or maybe wash it a few times to see if it softens. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your reading."

"If you're not comfortable, it will be harder to listen."

"To be cuddled with you is comfort enough for me. If you can ignore an occasional twitch from me, then please continue reading."

He does, or at least until his yawns interfere.

She suggests, "It sounds like I'd better tuck you into bed."

He sets the book down and tells her, "Thank you, Sharlene, for touching me and wanting to do so. It was a lot sooner than I had intended for you to touch me. I didn't want my pleasure to interfere with the smooth progression of your journey of touching."

"It was truly my pleasure to touch you and give you pleasure. I've never done anything like that before, but it was exciting to see and feel you get excited. I enjoyed it as a woman and I was fascinated as a doctor to feel the biological functioning of your anatomy. It seems like a whole different process than what I heard about in dry lectures or read about in books, even those which claimed to illustrate the process with line drawings. Thank you for helping me learn new things in such a fun environment."

She demonstrates her thankfulness with a long kiss. While he catches his breath, she gets up and takes their empty glasses to the kitchen. After she helps him off of the love seat, she walks down the hall with him then suggests, "Get yourself ready for bed while I check the doors." Once that is taken care of, she's back in his bedroom and turns down the covers on his bed just before he emerges from the bathroom. She gives him another thorough kiss, tucks him into bed and while she strongly resists the desire to do more, she slips out of his room and gently closes the door so the hall light doesn't disturb him.

To keep herself busy for awhile, she tries to think about policies for the new company, but nothing comes to mind. She tries to sort lingerie, but after she puts things in the wrong piles several times, she stops. She even tries to quietly play the piano, but it seems more like noise than music. Finally, she changes into her pajamas, gets herself ready for bed, slips into his room, slides into his bed, snuggles up to his back with her left arm under his pajama top to hold the bare skin of his chest, feels herself relax, and is soon asleep.

* * * * *

2147-08-35 (n>m1)

It's still dark when George wakes up to an insistent bladder. For a little while, he lays there and savors the warm body cuddled up to his back with her left arm draped across his chest. It's simply unbelievable that Sharlene is willing to touch him, for more reasons than he can take the time to name. He tries to disturb her as little as possible as he carefully gets up and takes care of his needs. When he slips back into bed, he even more carefully lifts her head, slips his left arm under it, lays her head on his shoulder, gently hugs her to him with his left arm across her back, pulls up the covers, and falls asleep.

* * * * *

Dawn is coloring the windows when Sharlene wakes up and finds herself snuggled along George's side and with her head on his shoulder. She lays there while she enjoys his warmth and marvels that he can be so gentle and considerate with her. Even without being able to prove it, she's sure he didn't take advantage of her being vulnerable while she was asleep in order to touch her intimately, it probably never occurred to him to do so. If she can remember, she ought to use that as an example of why she's so comfortable with him. It only adds to her desire for him that she can so thoroughly trust him.

After she carefully gets out of bed, she takes care of her own needs and since she knows how restless she usually is when she goes back to bed after waking up, in spite of her desire to cuddle with him, she goes to his front room to loosen up with some tai-chi exercises and then builds into her vigorous martial arts routine. Once she has a good workout accomplished, she slows down and cools off with some slower martial arts and then tai-chi. She thinks how nice it would be to partner with him for some of the tai-chi, if she can let him recover and not keep wearing him out with her demanding desires. Even in her wildest imaginations, she never considered it possible to be in her current situation.

When she's cooled down from her exercise, she fixes a cup of tea and sits at the dining room table to sip it while she thinks about a variety of things as she lets her mind bounce from one idea to another. She fixes a second cup of tea and after a few moments of hesitation, she gets out the .38 caliber handgun he showed her last night along with the towel he used and takes her time to look it over after she carefully unloads it and even removes the cartridges from the clip. As she looks in the drawer again, she sees that he has all of the necessary cleaning and maintenance supplies.

She notices that the basic parts are either the same or very similar to the .22 handgun which her aunt and grandparents had taught her to use so she field strips the .38, cleans it, lightly oils it, puts it back together, dry fires it a few times, reloads it, and puts it back in the drawer. She notices a .22 in the drawer, and, after a brief hesitation, she takes it out and gives it the same careful treatment. Since she knows how some people feel about their personal handguns, she leaves his .45 alone.

Once everything is put away, she washes her hands, finishes her tea, and decides to wake him up. She quietly steps into his room then debates with herself on how to wake him. When she sees that he's laying on his back, as though he hadn't moved since she got up, she gets into bed and snuggles up to him with her head on his shoulder. Even while he's still asleep, his left arm seems to naturally hug her to him.

As she slips her left arm under his pajama top, she feels him slightly jerk as though surprised, but he soon relaxes as she starts to slowly slide her arm and hand across his chest. After awhile, the slow back and forth movement of her hand begins to slowly go down his chest and his upper abdomen. When she reaches his waist, she undoes the snap which holds his pajama bottoms closed and continues her slow back and forth movement down his lower abdomen until her hand is sliding between his lower abdomen and his penis which appears to have risen up to meet her hand.

When she hears a soft sleepy moan from him, she moves her hand partially down the front of one thigh and back up the inside of his thigh, across the top of his pubic area and then partially down the front of the other thigh and back up the inside. As she does this a few more times, his moans deepen to groans which deepen further as she pauses a few moments between caresses of his thighs to fondle his testicles. A little later, she slides her thumb and fingers up the skin of his lower abdomen with his penis between them then she closes her hand around his penis to slowly slide down it as his breathing speeds up.

With her hand open, she slowly slides the palm of her hand up his penis, closes her fingers around it and slowly moves her hand down. When she makes a few more slow upstrokes done a little differently, but with the same down stroke, he starts to lift his hips from the bed. After another upstroke, she gently twists her hand back and forth as she slowly goes down. On the next upstroke she keeps her hand closed around his penis and gently twists her hand back and forth and as she starts back down in the same manner, she feels him tense, his penis seems to pulse, and a moment later his hips drop back to the bed.

Even as she continues to caress it, she feels his penis begin to slightly soften. Since she doesn't want to wait too long and allow his release to spread, she levers herself up on her right arm and knee, grabs some tissues and wipes up most of it. Since he appears to have settled back to sleep, she slips out of bed, gets a warm wet washcloth and washes him up better. When she's almost done, he starts to stir, but when she moves away, he settles back down.

After she rinses out the washcloth in the bathroom and leaves it to dry, she slips back into bed and is a little surprised to find herself begin to fondle him again and soon becomes aware of her own growing desire. She slips her left leg between his legs to slide her pubic area along the front of his thigh, but discovers she doesn't have quite the right leverage. She briefly thinks about it then she pulls her left leg up perpendicular to her right leg, lays it across his hips, hooks the heel of her left foot on the outside of his right leg, lifts herself up a little on her right arm, and finds that she can slide her hips either up and down a little ways or rock her hips back and forth which causes her pubic area to move across his hip bone. Very quickly her pleasure starts to grow.

Apparently, that causes her to forget she's trying to wake him up instead of waking up her own desires, because she unbuttons part of his pajama top and as she begins to kiss his chest, she slips her left hand under her left leg and begins to fondle him again. Even though he's not fully awake, he lifts his left hip a couple of inches off of the bed which gives his hip bone a clearer definition. As her breathing deepens, she finds it hard to keep kissing him and when he wakes up a little more and his hands grab her hips to help her movement, her groans and pleasure grow until her climax expresses itself which brings him fully awake and freezes his movement.

It takes him a moment to figure out what's happening, but when he does, he pulls her up a few inches and begins to kiss her lips, her face, her neck, and her ears with a fervor which soon has her desire swiftly growing again. Since she knows that he'll somehow resist touching her more than he 'should' and she can no longer easily reach his anatomy to fondle him, she turns her left hand over, moves it a few inches to between her legs and after she touches herself for a few moments, she again cries out in pleasure.

Moments later, she slumps on him with the relaxation of her sexual tension, but it doesn't take even a minute for her to realize that her desire is growing again and a little longer to realize why, he's still holding her hips and pressing down on them while he rocks them back and forth . . . on top of her hand which is still between her legs. While her desire leads the way, her pleasure grows and grows, until she cries out in climax and slumps on him, again, only this time she's on the edge of unconsciousness. He makes a good guess as to her condition then reaches his left hand across her back to lift her left hip and with his right hand, he pulls her left hand out from between her legs.

* * * * *

2147-08-35 (m2)

When Sharlene starts to stir, his voice has a smile as George tells her, "I must say, young lady, that's the most creative way I've ever been woken up. Thank you." He thoroughly kisses her and almost outlasts her before his breathlessness stops him. When their breathing is near normal again, he says, "I assume that my dream of us . . . touching each other was you giving me pleasure until I climaxed."

"Is that what it's called?"

"Climax, sexual release, there are a number of other terms used, many of them considered somewhat crude."

She looks at him in surprise then asks, "You were dreaming we were touching just before you woke up?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful! It was fun to touch you and to give you pleasure. I wanted to wake you up, but I hadn't actually thought through how to do it. So I snuggled up to you, started to caress your chest, and it just seemed to naturally progress from there."

"You are unique."

Since she's quite surprised by that description, she blurts out, "Unique? How?"

"I've never been told I was fun to touch, especially when I wasn't touching in return."

"Nobody's told you that you're fun to touch?" When she sees him shake his head, she assures him, "But you are. I like to touch you and it's fun to see you get excited."

"That's what I think about touching you."

"Oh. Ohhh! That's what you keep saying. I guess I never understood it until now. And touching me gets you excited."

He nods his head.

"How . . . how do you restrain yourself from touching me more or seeking your own sexual release?"

"Usually when I touch you and you get excited, I do have a sexual release unless my body hasn't had enough time to recover from the previous time. As to how I restrain myself, sometimes I wonder how I do it. I guess I keep reminding myself that your journey of being touched is more important than my pleasure of touching you. I hadn't imagined you would be interested in touching me until it was a response to me touching you in a similar manner."

"If I'm touching you intimately, is it going to be harder for you to not touch me intimately?"

He hesitates a little before he admits, "To be honest, I'm afraid so. By the same token, I'm very hesitant to stop you from touching me because I so much want it and I'm unbelievably amazed that you're not only tolerant of touching me, but that you want to touch me. It's very hard for me to want to hinder or stop something which is so unique and wonderful."

"Then I'll try to resist touching you more than you're touching me, not because I don't want to, but because I don't want to make it harder on you."

"Thank you, my lady."

"I don't know about you, old man, but the longer we lay here in bed, the more work it is to resist touching you. We need to get up, get dressed, and have breakfast to help with the resistance and to give us energy for when we can no longer resist."

"Then chase yourself out, because I think you have me half undressed under the covers."

She smiles and proclaims, "And such fun it was."

After she gives him a good kiss, she hops out of bed, closes his door, and goes to the guest bedroom to get clothes before she goes to the bathroom to get washed up and dressed. As he watches her leave the room, he almost trembles with the effort to not chase after her. Finally, he calms down enough to get out of bed and get himself up and dressed for another day.

* * * * *

As they clean up after breakfast, Sharlene 'confesses', "George, I hope you don't mind, but I got out the .38 and .22 handguns, field stripped them, cleaned them, and put them back together. Since I know some people are particular about their personal handguns, but didn't know you felt about it, I didn't do your .45."

"I don't have any problem with you handling it. A handgun is a tool, just like a hammer. I don't feel like it's an extension of my personality or something like that. If you don't mind cleaning it, be my guest. I would like to watch and maybe I can learn a better way of doing it."

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all, go for it." When she's done, he remarks, "That's just the way I was taught to do it. So, are you ready to try out the .38?"

"Sure. Do we have far to go?"

"No. It'll probably be easier to wear it with a holster and carry the ammo. Umm, it's a good thing this belt is one size fits all, because I don't think any of my other belts will fit you." When she has the belt on and the handgun holstered, he asks, "Is that too heavy for you?"

"No. It may take a little while to get used to it, but I don't think it'll be a problem. Aren't you taking your .45?"

"It's right here," he pats his waist. When he notices her puzzled expression, he pulls it out and explains, "I have it in a clip-on holster which goes inside the pants. Some guys when they see another guy openly armed, tend to feel the need to challenge. I prefer to avoid such confrontations. In addition, I'm not that fast. So if I keep it more or less hidden, it's easier to get it out unseen and be prepared to use it if I need to."

"Smart man. You know your limitations and use them to your advantage."

"Here, take a couple of boxes of ammo and we'll go make some noise." He hands her two boxes of ammunition for the .38 and grabs two for the .45 and heads for the door.

"Do you think I'll need so much to get used to the handgun?"

"Probably not, but it will be easier to have it with you than to have to come back for more."

After she follows him out of the front door, Sharlene waits while George locks up and is surprised when he walks away from the garage and the vehicles. She walks with him as he goes around the end of the house then unlocks a door under the library which she had assumed during their walks around the yard was to a garage. He reaches in to turn on the lights, gestures her in, and closes the door.

He explains, "This was designed to be the garage. After construction started, I changed my mind and had the garage built separately and had this left unfinished to be a cellar. Later, I fixed it up to be an indoor shooting range. This way I can practice when I want and nobody will hear me."

"This is great. Again you surprise me."

"If you could, I would appreciate it if you keep this a secret."

"Okay. So, who else knows?"

"Umm, you."

She looks at him with wide eyes then asks, "You mean I'm the only one you've shown this to?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to and I trust you."

She notices a chair nearby and sits down on it before she says, "George, you're too much. You're so kind and gentle that you're the only man who I'm really comfortable with. You open my life to a whole new world of intimate pleasure. And now you let me in on a closely guarded secret." After she sits there for awhile because she feels somewhat dazed, she gets up, hugs him, kisses him, then tells him, "Thank you, George. Thank you very, very much. I hope I can live up to the trust you've shown me."

"I think you will. If I had thought otherwise, we would have gone somewhere else to practice shooting, which I do occasionally to let the word float around that I'm armed and know how to use it. It tends to cut down on some unwelcome visitors. If I remember when we're back in the city, I'll take you to an indoor shooting range which I visit maybe once a year and get you acquainted."

"Thank you," and she hugs him tighter. While she still holds him tight with her left arm, she pulls her right arm around to the front of him and begins to play with the buttons on his shirt, but doesn't unbutton them. A little later she suggests, "We'd better do what we came to do, or I'm going to want to more thoroughly demonstrate how thankful I am for all of your kindness."

"I'm not going to argue about who is more thankful, but I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for not just tolerating me, but wanting me. You're the miracle in my life and there aren't enough ways for me to express or demonstrate my appreciation for you." But he makes a good attempt in the kiss he gives her.

"Oh, George, thank you." She gently pushes him away then tells him, "No more for now or we're going to find out how uncomfortable this concrete floor is on unclothed bodies."

"You're probably right, thank you. . . . So, what kind of targets are you used to?"

"The round paper ones with concentric circles. Are there other kinds?"

"There's the human silhouette used by law enforcement and the military and animal silhouettes used by hunters."

"I think concentric circles will be good enough."

* * * * *

2147-08-35 (m3)

For the next hour or so, while they wear heavy duty ear protectors, they put holes in paper targets as they take their time and take turns shooting. They also take occasional breaks to change targets and to sweep up the brass so they don't step on it and potentially fall. After a couple of clips, she feels comfortable enough with the .38 in a two hand stance that she tries several other positions while she takes her time to improve her accuracy and keep her shots grouped. She even tries a few rounds with his .45, but it's too large to comfortably hold in her hands and the kick is more than she wants to learn to handle. Although it's uncomfortable, she does feel confident enough that she will be able to use it if some future situation gives her enough reason. By the end of their session, her arm is getting tired from holding a hunk of metal at arm's length while it wants to jump around.

He looks over their mangled pieces of paper and says, "You do quite well for someone who probably has little opportunity to practice and with a new handgun which is more powerful than you're used to."

She nods her head as she responds, "Yeah, I don't get much practice, but when I learned from my grandparents and later visited them, the practices were pretty intense. When they were going to teach me, I thought it was point and 'bang, bang, bang'. Wow, did I learn differently. Before I ever did a live fire, they made sure I understood the handgun first.

"I had to learn to field strip the weapon while blindfolded, I had to know multitudes of safety rules as well as the laws for the area they lived in addition to the laws where my parents lived. Even when we got to the point of firing live rounds, I had to go through tension reduction exercises between each round. If I hadn't have had something similar in my martial arts and tai-chi lessons, I would have never made it. And they highly stressed accuracy over speed."

"It sounds like you had some good teaching and it shows. So how do you like the .38?"

"I like it. It fills my hand nicely, it's not too heavy to use for awhile, yet it feels heavy enough to be a weapon. I felt like I was able to correct from the kick fairly well. What I'll need to remember with this handgun is to aim just a hair to the left of where I want the bullet to go."

He nods his head as he responds, "I understand. Some people have ways of making changes to their fixed sights to compensate for those variances, but I was never confident enough to try to make those kinds of changes. Besides, if someone else uses the handgun, maybe they'll have to aim slightly different than I do and if I make permanent changes to the sights it might mess up the next person who tries to use the handgun. I think it's just best to learn your personal interface with a handgun and leave well enough alone."

"My grandparents said much the same thing. In fact, they gave a very interesting demonstration. They set up a .22 rifle in a secure stand and zeroed it in so that when it was mechanically fired, it hit the center of the bull's-eye. Without telling us that was the case until later, they had me and some of my cousins look down the sights and while we used a pen laser, we would point to where we thought the bullet would hit and they would mark the spot with a map pin whose head was almost the same color as the target so the next person looking couldn't see anybody else's pin.

"When we were done, they took us to the target and the pins were all over the center of the target. And that was just the result of the variance in the aim of our eyes and our depth perception. That didn't even consider the differences in how people pull the trigger or involuntarily jerk when the weapon fires.

"It's kind of funny how often I thought back to that during medical training when some professor would try to explain something as though people were machines which were all built exactly the same. Even in my extremely limited experience during my internship, I saw that the recommended solution was not necessarily the best solution for an individual patient due to some unusual differences to their body or its chemistry or because of other medical issues they had."

He nods his head as he responds, "Ain't that the truth? Anyway, the .38 is yours along with the holster. I also have some more ammunition for it upstairs you can take with you. If you want to carry it less obviously, we can pick up a holster to clip on the inside of your purse for a few credits."

"What about a clip-on holster for the inside of my pants like you have?"

"I don't intend to be forward," as he puts an index finger into the waistband of her pants and moves it back and forth a little, "but you don't have much room there to put a holster and a handgun."

"Umm, I like you being forward like that, but, you're right, it would be difficult to put a handgun there. I suppose one option would be to buy pants with a larger waist. Or maybe I should get a holster to strap onto my leg under a skirt like they show in those spy movies."

George laughs then says, "Not likely. Those skirts are usually so short and tight a woman couldn't wear a pencil under them without being extremely uncomfortable. And then they pull out this massive handgun with a barrel which is longer than their skirt? Only in the movies. It would be easier to have someone design a decorative belt buckle which the handgun could be incorporated into."

"I'm not inclined to wear skirts like that." Sharlene snuggles up to him and asks, "But wouldn't you want to see me lift my skirt to get a handgun out?"

"Lovely lady, I think that seeing you pull a handgun out from under your skirt would spoil the mood of watching you lift your skirt. If you were inclined to not tuck your shirt into your pants, you could clip a holster to the outside of your pants and let your shirt cover it."

"I could, but I don't like to wear my shirts not tucked in, for some reason it makes me feel like I haven't finished getting dressed. Mmm, I like that idea of not being quite dressed when I'm with you. It might be easier for you to reach my bare skin if I leave my shirt not tucked in, but there's a certain amount of excitement to feel you pull my shirt bottom out of my pants or skirt so you can touch my skin."

He bends over to nuzzle her ear and suggests, "If you keep talking like that, it's going to be more than your shirt which comes out of your pants."

She lifts her head to nibble then suck on his earlobe before she responds, "If you make that a promise, I'll keep talking."

He lifts his head away from hers then leans back a little before he says, "Please, lady, I really don't want your first experience of making love to be on a concrete floor. And don't tell me we can go upstairs to bed. I'm sorry, in spite of how much I want you, I'm just not ready for this yet."

"I'm sorry I keep pushing you. I know you want me, I'm thrilled that you want me, and I really don't understand how you can restrain yourself and go against every bit of what I've heard about males and their sexual appetites."

"I don't understand it either, but something inside of me keeps telling me to take a little more time, to let you enjoy as much variety in touching as I can come up with, to let the touching slowly get closer to full intimacy. On the one hand, I'm amazed I didn't rip your clothes off a couple of weeks ago. On the other hand, I'm amazed you're still here, not only accepting my touching, but wanting more and even more amazing is that you want to touch me."

"Oh, George." Sharlene pulls him close again and hugs him as she says, "I know that later in time, I'll look back at this time and be so very grateful you restrained yourself and led me along the path of the full journey with every single step so filled with joy and pleasure. But right now, it's all I can do, to not take my clothes off and beg you to touch me all over and to take your clothes off so I can touch you all over."

As he hugs her almost painfully tight, he kisses the top of her head then says, "I feel much the same way. I think this is one of those times when talking about it is only going to make the situation harder. So, we're not going to talk about it and we're going to try not to think about it, as hard as that sounds. We'll finish cleaning up here, go upstairs, clean our handguns, and then see what time it is and what needs to be done before Paula and Paul come."

"Yes, George, thank you. You know, old man, that even as you tell me to back off, you give me more reasons to keep you around. But you're right, we do have time for this journey of touching. Thank you for reminding me."

* * * * *

2147-08-35 (m4)

After he kisses the top of her head again, he releases her, turns away, and begins the last of the cleaning up before he can change his mind. Once the room is cleaned up and locked, they go back up to the house and clean their handguns.

A little later, Sharlene asks, "George, what do you do with the brass from the cartridges?"

"Every once in awhile I gather it up, along with the lead I can get out of the hay bales downstairs and take it to the guy who runs the gun shop in town. He melts the lead, remolds it, and then reloads the brass. I also take him the boxes to put the reloaded cartridges in. It's somewhat less expensive than buying new, but even more so I like the idea of reusing the brass and lead instead of throwing them away and wasting limited resources."

"Couldn't you reload them yourself?"

"Theoretically, yes. But I would probably have an inferior product and when it comes to handgun cartridges, I don't want an unreliable product."

"True."

"That's an idea."

"What?"

"I was going to go into town to get a couple of chickens for dinner tonight, you could take the .38 along and we can stop at the gun shop and let you pick out a holster for your purse."

"That sounds good. I think I would also like one like yours even if I need to buy some new pants with larger waists."

"Okay. Sharlene, how hungry are you?"

"If you're referring to lunch, I think it's a little early."

"Why don't we run our errands now, have lunch when we come back, then we can do whatever needs to be done for dinner tonight."

"I'll be ready in less than five minutes."

Only after he backs his pickup out of the garage and sees Sharlene's warm smile does George realize it might not be the wisest mode of transportation. He pauses then asks, "Is it going to be a problem to ride in the pickup?"

She pats his cheek and assures him, "I much prefer your touching. I was just remembering how this whole adventure started. Besides, Molly wants to ride along."

They're soon on their way. As he drives, he tells her, "Don't be surprised when I introduce you as 'Doctor' and that you're Paula's niece. I want to make it clear that you have a positive connection to the community and aren't some stray visitor to maybe take advantage of."

"Are the people in town that bad?"

"Not at all. They're good people for the most part, but just like in any small town, if they think of you as local, the temptation to raise the price on an unmarked item is greatly reduced. Sometimes a tourist from a big city comes through and picks up what they think is a bargain without realizing they paid double what a local person would have paid for the same item."

Sharlene nods her head as she says, "I'd forgotten about that. When I was on my engineering internship, the local people we were working with were very protective of us. Near the end of one of the projects, we went to the next larger town for a shopping trip because most of the crew wanted to pick up some souvenirs. I was more interested in seeing the market rather than actually buying something. Sometimes I felt like I was cheating a craftsman when I paid only a few credits for a finely crafted item which took him and his family maybe hours or days to make.

"Anyway, we stopped at a jewelry booth and waited for the previous customer to complete their purchase of buying a very well made necklace for what I thought was an extremely low price. When the local introduced us, the merchant reached under his counter and brought out even better quality jewelry and started the haggling at half of what he charged the previous customer. When I shook my head because I didn't want to cheat him, he lowered the price further. My grandpa leaned over and whispered in my ear, 'You're not cheating him, make his day and haggle a little.' So I did.

"We must have spent half an hour there. By adding a piece or two at a time to the purchase, the per piece price was almost back up to his original price. I think I walked away from there with a couple of dozen pieces of wonderfully made jewelry at a fantastic price and the merchant was almost dancing a jig when I paid him. Grandpa recognized what I did, and as we left, he whispered, 'Well done.' That made me feel better than getting a fantastic bargain on jewelry. When I got home I gave about half of it away as gifts and still have the rest stashed in a drawer at my parents' home."

"I've heard that in some cultures, the interaction of haggling over a price between a merchant and a customer is just as important as or more so than accomplishing a sell."

"I can't compare the two, but what little I've seen it's very important to some."

"Here we are."

He pulls into a parking spot in front of a small store. They get out of the pickup and as George holds the door open, Molly then Sharlene walk in and he closes the door.

The man in the store looks up and says, "Hello, Molly."

"Woof."

"Hi, George."

"Hi, Doug."

"And your friend?"

"Doug, I'd like to introduce Doctor Sharlene Schmidt, she's the niece of Paula out at the Country Store. Sharlene, this is Doug Ellingham, the owner of this fine establishment."

"It's nice to meet you, Doctor Schmidt."

She shakes his hand as she says, "Please call me Sharlene, Mr. Ellingham, the pleasure is mine."

"It's Doug, please. What can I do for you?"

She glances at George and when she sees his nod, she turns back and says, "George was kind enough to give me a .38 he wasn't using and I was wondering if I can get a holster for it to keep it in place in my purse."

"Can you unload it, please, place it on the counter, and I'll see what we have." As she does so, he nods at her competence. Doug picks it up, holds it, then turns it in several directions and sets it back down. "I think we have a couple which might meet your needs."

"Doug, do you mind if Molly stays here with Sharlene? I thought I'd pop around the corner to Leroy's to get a couple of chickens for dinner tonight."

"Not at all. Molly may not be real friendly towards me personally, but I know of at least two attempted robberies of my store she's stopped, so she's always welcome."

"I'll be right back then."

As he steps back, Doug pulls a couple of holsters out of a drawer behind him and goes around the counter to get a couple more from off of the side wall then tells her, "These should all fit the .38. Why don't you try sliding the handgun in and see what feels right to you."

Sharlene tries each of them twice and a couple of them two more times and says, "These two seem to give the smoothest release without binding."

"Now, I guess I'll need to see the purse you would want the holster for. I don't mean to be nosy, but how many purses did you have in mind for carrying the handgun?"

"You're not being nosy since I understand the need for the question. Actually, this is the only purse I've used for a few years now. The only other bag which is frequently with me is my medical kit, but that's hardly the place for a handgun."

Doug chuckles then says, "Yes, it would be disconcerting to the patient for you to reach in for a stethoscope and come out with a handgun."

Sharlene chuckles with him and suggests, "Unless, of course, I was working as a doctor in a prison. They might expect it then."

Doug briefly laughs out loud before he responds, "You're probably right about that. You know, Paula and Paul were real proud of you when you became a doctor. You wouldn't believe how much they bragged about you. It just dawned on me, you're the doctor who saved George."

"It was my privilege to do so."

"You've been quite the talk of the town the last few weeks. We hardly see an ambulance around here much less an airevac. He's doing mighty good for having had a heart attack just a few weeks ago. My brother had a heart attack a few years ago and it took him months to get back on his feet."

"The treatment I gave George is fairly new and less invasion than typical open heart surgery which makes it easier to recover from. I also combined it with an experimental drug which seems to be working for him. That's part of why I'm spending some time with him. Not a lot is known about the drug or its side effects and the doctors who developed the drug need a lot of data on how patients respond to the drug so they can get it approved or make revisions to it if necessary."

"Interesting. So, old George is a bit of a guinea pig."

"I'm afraid so. He doesn't seem to mind. Even with the surgery, I doubt that he would have lasted much longer. I guess he figured being a guinea pig was better than being six feet under."

"Good point. I didn't mean to get off the subject like that. How would you want the handgun to sit in your purse?"

Sharlene shows Doug how she usually carries her purse and for the next several minutes they discuss the pros and cons of how and where to carry a handgun in her purse.

* * * * *

2147-08-35 (m5)

Meanwhile, George steps into Harvey's Butcher Shop around the corner and goes towards the counter where a young man asks him, "Can I help you, sir?"

"Is Leroy in?"

"Just a second," the young man turns and steps to a back door and speaks up, "Dad! Customer." He turns back and asks, "So, how have you been doing, Mr. Greyson?"

"It's George and I'm doing pretty good."

"I know that's what you prefer, but Dad insists we treat the customers with respect. Better than that lady at the library who gave you hell for helping her little girl to read."

He pauses a moment to remember, "You must be Darren."

"That's right."
"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you all grown up. So how do you like working here?"

"There wasn't a whole lot of choice in a small town, but Dad's been a pretty good boss compared to what I've heard some other people say about their bosses. I'm not much for cutting up animals, but I like the customer interface."

George asks, "Have you thought about going to college?"

"Thought, but that's about it. Now I regret not doing better in high school, because there aren't too many scholarships for poor students, and my folks can't afford to pay for college."

"That can be a problem. Even the closest community college is pretty far away to be able to commute. Some colleges offer classes online, but you would probably do better in a classroom setting."

"Yeah. I like the give and take with a teacher who will take the time to listen to your idea even if they've heard it a hundred times before, no matter how crazy an idea it is."

"It sounds like you might be good at doing some teaching yourself. If I remember right, you enjoyed teaching the kids how to read at the library."

Darren nods his head as he responds, "A lot of my so-called friends thought I was a sissy for wanting to help little kids learn to read, but it made me feel real good when I was able to help them figure out that a seemingly random group of letters were actually words which meant something."

"I know what you mean. Or to see their eyes come alive at the imaginary worlds they can find in books."

"Oh, yeah, that was great."

George suggests, "So what about being a teacher? The educational system could use someone like you because you want to help the kids learn and are willing to listen to them. Little kids blossom when they know the adult is really interested in them and their situation. I know there's a lot of garbage in the educational system for teachers to put up with, but until we can get enough real teachers to flush out the crap, not much will improve."

"I would like to teach, but none of the subjects specifically grab my attention."

"That's good, you can teach them all. Almost anybody can learn a subject, but in my opinion, you can't teach someone how to teach. Teaching is a gift. The colleges can train you in educational methods or techniques, but they can't train you in how to relate to people or how to inspire children to want to accomplish more."

Leroy steps into the room and says, "Listen to him, Darren. You can do better than run a butcher shop for your old man. How are you doing, George?"

"Pretty good, Leroy."

"You're looking damned good for having had a heart attack a few weeks ago."

"A good doctor and the right treatment made the difference."

"So what can I do for you?"

"I'd like a couple of chickens I can throw on a rotisserie and slow cook over the grill. I had intended to come by a couple of days ago so I could marinate them, but forgot."

"Either way sounds good. Darren, the batch we did up this morning, go wrap up a couple of them for George." When Darren goes out the back door, Leroy turns to him and says, "So, George, I hear you've got a woman up at your place now."

"Not quite, Leroy. She's Paula and Paul's niece. She's also the doctor who treated me for my heart attack. Part of the treatment I received was an experimental drug which they need to closely watch for any kind of bad side effects. Apparently, the doctors who developed the drug are real interested in having it succeed and are willing to have a doctor close to their guinea pig. Since Doctor Schmidt had family in the area, she was willing to keep an eye on my progress and if the drug did start to cause problems, she would be on the scene to reduce the effect of the problems."

"Wow, that must be some drug."

"I certainly don't understand the medical side of it, but from what I heard, the doctors think it might revolutionize the treatment of heart disease. So far, it seems to have done me a lot of good."

"I can't argue with that. I'll let Darren ring you up. It was nice seeing you again, George."

"Thanks, Leroy. I appreciate it."

Darren slowly rings up the purchase, takes George's money, and gives him the change which gives Leroy time to get out of earshot so Darren can speak freely, "I apologize for Dad's suggestion about having a woman up at your place. I'll admit that Doctor Schmidt is real good looking, but there's more to a woman than her body. I don't think Dad will ever realize that."

George asks, "So when did you see her?"

"It was during that week when she was helping Paula in the store just before you had your heart attack. I was real sorry to hear you got sick like that."

"Thank you, Darren. Paula said there was a clear increase in male customers when Sharlene was helping in the store."

"Yeah, some of the guys I know told me about her at the store. I get along with Paula and Paul and went up one time, even talked to her a little. She seemed real nice. It's hard to think of her as a doctor."

George chuckles then says, "You're right about that, but when they airevaced me to the medical center, she must have given them an earful. The day after the surgery, the emergency room doctor came to my room to check on me and he thanked Doctor Schmidt for kicking his butt to give me the right treatment."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. And you don't get to be an emergency room doctor in a medical center without knowing your stuff."

"Wow. I know it's none of my business, but I couldn't help but wonder why a doctor was stocking shelves and running a cash register in a little convenience store."

"I would appreciate it if you keep it under your hat, Darren, but she had just quit her job because she had found out her employer had lied to her, so she needed a break and came to stay with her aunt."

"That's rough. Yeah, I'd want to take a break too."

"I didn't mean to take up all of your time, but think about becoming a teacher. If I can, I would like to help you get started. I don't know what my schedule's going to be like, but Paula and Paul will know how to get in touch with me, so when you decide something, let them know and maybe we can get together and figure out where to go from there."

"You would help me?"

"I don't know if I can, Darren, but I'm willing to talk about it and investigate ways to help you. The world needs good butchers and the world needs good teachers. I think you're better suited to helping kids learn, than you are at cutting up dead animals."

"Since you put it that way, I hardly need to think about it. Thank you for your encouragement, George. And I promise to think about it."

"That's good enough for me. Take care of yourself."

"I'll try. Thanks again."

* * * * *

Back at the gun shop, Doug asks Sharlene, "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Well, I was thinking of getting a holster like George has which clips to the inside waistband of his pants."

Doug glances at her waist before he says, "I don't mean to be getting personal, but it doesn't look like you have enough room in your pants for a handgun and a holster."

Sharlene chuckles then says, "That's about what George said when I thought out loud about purchasing that kind of a holster. Actually, I was thinking of buying pants with a larger waist band so it wouldn't be a problem."

"That's a good solution, but I don't think I've ever heard of a woman who wanted to buy clothes which were too big for them. You could probably use the same style as the one for your purse, but since you're right-handed, you would want the clip on the other side for your pants."

"So two of the same style with a clip on each side?"

"That would be my suggestion."

"I'll take them."

"Okay. Do you need any ammunition or a cleaning kit?"

"I'd better take a cleaning kit since I don't want to have to keep sponging off of George. He said he had ammo for the .38 and if I'm taking this handgun, he won't have a need for the ammo, so I think I can wait on the ammo for now and see how much he has and how much opportunity I have to use it up."

"That makes sense."

Doug rings up her purchase and charges it to the credit card she hands him. Once her credit card is back in her purse, she clips one of the holsters into her purse, reloads the handgun, and puts it in the holster. With her purse in place, she partially pulls the handgun out of the holster a few times then says, "I like it. Thank you, Doug."

"It was my pleasure. I don't often get a woman in here who knows one end of a weapon from the other."

"My grandparents taught me. Before I ever fired a round, I had to be able to field strip a handgun and put it back together blindfolded." George walks into the shop. "Then I had to be able to recite numerous safety rules and practice them as well as know the applicable laws. Only after that was I allowed to fire a round."

"That's better training that most people get."

"She's also quite accurate and maintains a good grouping with her shots." George turns from Doug to Sharlene and asks, "Did you find what you need?"

"Yes. Doug was very helpful. You did say you had more ammunition for the .38, didn't you?"

"Yes. Sorry, Doug, no sale on .38 ammo. Do you have any more of the reloaded .45?"

"Um, two boxes."

"I'll take them."

Once that purchase is complete, they say their goodbyes and are shortly on their way back to George's.

* * * * *

2147-08-35 (m6>a1)

Sharlene remarks, "It looks like you got the chickens you wanted. Somehow I expected you back sooner."

George asks, "Doug didn't bother you, did he?"

"No, other than a little chit chat about Aunt Paula and Uncle Paul being proud of me becoming a doctor, Doug was pretty much a businessman making a sale."

"Good. I didn't think he would bother you. I took longer than I expected because I talked with the owner's son, Darren. He was one of the other tutors at the library reading program I told you about. He was doing fine in school, but goofed off later in high school and now regrets it. I talked to him and suggested that he think about teaching as a career. If he thinks about it and decides he's serious enough, I may try to help him get started in college. We'll see. By the way, Darren thinks you're good looking."

"What?"

"He also said you seemed real nice."

With an edge to her voice, Sharlene says, "Whoever he is, he certainly has the advantage over me."

"Calm down, lady love. Darren's a nice kid who is recently out of high school and recognizes that a female is more than her body, not that he can ignore it. The week you helped Paula in the store, some of his acquaintances had talked about you, so he visited the store once and apparently talked to you briefly and thought you seemed real nice. I think he has a lot of potential, but he just needs some help with encouragement and getting started. I told him that when he decided what he wanted to do, to talk to Paula and Paul about getting in touch with me and then we can talk about what can be done to get him started."

"If he's a nice kid, why didn't you take me along and introduce me?"

"Because I didn't know he was working for his dad who owns the butcher shop. And I have no intention of introducing you to Leroy because he's a womanizer who I wouldn't trust with my own grandmother."

"Ouch. That bad?

George nods his head and says, "Oh yes. Thankfully the attitude of the father didn't get passed down to the son. . . . Sharlene, I'm sorry I bugged you about somebody else who though you're pretty."

She lays her left hand on his right leg and tells him, "That's okay, I'm still not used to the idea, so it's somewhat shocking to hear it, but I do need to know so I can respond with appropriate behavior."

After he stops the pickup in front of the house, he gently grabs her jaw, turns her head towards him, says, "That's my lady," and kisses her. Her enjoyment of the kiss chases her irritation away.

They let Molly out of the pickup then Sharlene and George take their purchases into the house and have a quick lunch. After lunch, he liberally coats the chickens with a barbecue sauce, puts them on the rotisserie, starts the grill on low heat, throws some hickory wood chips into the low flames, leaves it to slow cook, and returns to clean up the kitchen.

Sharlene asks, "George, do you mind if I sit on the counter?"

"Not at all. It makes it easier for me to look at you."

She hops up onto the counter then says, "Maybe I shouldn't be here. I don't want you watching me while you're trying to wash that knife."

"It's a powerful incentive to not give in to my temptations."

"So you're tempted to watch me that much?"

He laughs then glances at her briefly before he rinses off the washed knife and says, "Lovely lady, I'm tempted to watch you 24/6."

"That's not very practical."

"What's practical got to do with temptation?"

She watches him dry off the knife and put it away. When she notices that it's the last of the things he has to clean up, she requests, "Come here, old man." When he steps near, she spreads her legs, puts her heels behind his legs and pulls him closer. His arms slide across her back to hug her tight, and she kisses him breathless. When her breathing has settled, she tells him, "Thank you for wanting to keep me safe, for giving me the .38, for having Molly stay with me, and for not introducing me to a womanizing butcher. You're a wonderful man."

"I'm an extremely selfish man who doesn't want anything bad to happen to the miracle in my life."

"Am I really such a good thing in your life?"

"Sharlene, you're the best . . . everything in my life. You're so wonderful. You're so beautiful. You're so . . ." while his left arm tightens its grip across her back, his right arm drops to the top of her buttocks, sweeps her off the counter, and slides under her buttocks to hold her up as his lips kiss hers as thoroughly as he can. He reluctantly breaks the kiss simply because he needs to breathe in order to keep from passing out.

While her legs are locked around his waist, she nibbles on his ear and proclaims, "Ah, George. What a way to sweep a girl off of her feet."

"You weren't . . . on your feet."

"It sounds more romantic than 'sweeping a girl off of her butt'. However, when I consider how close we are, 'sweeping a girl off of her butt' is much more interesting." She starts to rock, swivel, and move her hips anyway she can think of and her kiss quickly turns passionate as she uses his hips as a fulcrum to rock her body up and down which causes her pubic area to slide over his belt buckle. As their mutual desire and urgency grows, he moves his right arm from under her buttocks to set her back on the counter.

He's breathing heavily as he brings his right hand up to clumsily unbutton the top three buttons of her shirt while she's kissing his face and with her own right hand unbuttoning his shirt. His hand slides down her chest. For her to just know that his hand went over her breast, even though she didn't feel it do so, causes her pleasure to take a leap higher.

As he pulls the bottom of her shirt out of the back of her pants with his right hand, his left hand slides up her back to cup her neck while his lips hungrily lock onto hers. Then his right hand slides up the bare skin of her back to her bra strap where he's defeated, because there's no hook there, but by then it's too late as he feels like he explodes in his pants just as she cries out with her own climatic pleasure. She hugs him as tight as she can with both her arms and her legs while she breathes heavily in his ear. When she can, she proclaims, "Oh, George, thank you, thank you, thank you."

When his breathing is near to normal, he starts to say, "I'm sorry . . .," but he gets no further as her lips cover his and she again kisses him breathless.

"No, George. No sorry. That was wonderful. It was thrilling and exciting to feel your desire shine forth. And to know that your desire is for me, it's . . . overwhelming is the only word I can think of. Wonderfully overwhelming."

"I . . . I didn't hurt you?"

As she strokes his face with her hands, she assures him, "Of course you didn't, my love. You were excitingly eager, but you were certainly not anywhere near hurting me. Even as strong as your desire was, you were still gentle in unbuttoning my shirt."

With a look of something between fear and concern, he asks, "I unbuttoned your shirt?" As he looks down, he sees the edge of her bra in the open neckline of her shirt and before she can stop him, he's buttoned the lowest undone button of her shirt and is starting on the next one up.

Sharlene grabs his hands, requests, "Leave it, please," and she redirects his hands back to her hips. "Be calm and hold me." When he slides his arms around her back, she continues, "I suspected that even when you let your desire loose, you would still be gentle and you proved it. Oh, George, more than ever do I want you to touch me and to express your desire for me, but I also don't want to wear you out." For awhile, they just hug each other before she asks, "What more do we need to do to get ready for dinner?"

"I was thinking of raiding the garden to make a salad and cooking up some wild rice to serve with the chicken."

"That sounds good. What do you need to do before we go back to my place tomorrow?"

He thinks for a moment or two before he answers, "Um, laundry, check Molly's food, ask Paula and Paul to check my mail, I assume we'll take your vehicle in which case I need to put my pickup away and lock the garage. Oh, and pack."

"It sounds like the longest activity will be doing laundry."

"Yeah. I wasn't sure whether to start on that today or wait until tomorrow. I guess it depends on when you want to leave and whether you want to do any laundry before you go."

"I don't need to do laundry before I go and I figured we can leave anytime as long as we get there with enough time to unload the vehicle before we go to bed."

"Sharlene, do you like burritos and tacos?"

"Yes."

"There's a little place a few miles outside of town which looks kind of run down from the outside, but they serve the best burritos and soft tacos. I try to stop by on my trips to the city not only for the food, but the couple who run the place are friendly and were quietly encouraging to me when I first moved to the area. They never said much, but they always welcomed me with open arms. After their kids were in the library reading program and I was able to help them, they were so happy that the next few times I stopped by, I had to insist on paying for the meal. Anyway, if you're interested in going, and we get there before the typical dinner hour, it should be pretty quiet."

"I would love to go and meet people who encouraged my man. Besides, I seldom turn down a good meal of refried beans smothered in cheese."

"I think you'll like what they do with refried beans."

"That sounds like a plan. George, how much laundry do you need to do?"

"I'm thinking I ought to do one load today, which will give us more flexibility tomorrow. Probably two loads tomorrow, three if I wash up the towels before we leave. Do you have any idea of how long we'll stay at your place?"

"I'm guessing two weeks. I would like to stay there at least until Klara submits a proposal for the Project. Then I would like to come back here for a week to be alone with you while the Institute decides. Then back to my place the following week to find out who wins the Project. That decision will impact what happens afterwards."

* * * * *

2147-08-35 (a2)

George hesitates some then asks, "Have you thought about what you might do if you don't win the Project?"

Sharlene assures him, "I have several options, but don't you worry, every one of those options includes keeping you with me."

"Even if nothing else works out, you're always welcome to stay here and I'll be more than happy to support you as long as I live."

"Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me, because I know you mean it absolutely. Aunt Paula or my parents would gladly have me stay with them, but in the back of their minds, the nagging thought would be, 'why doesn't she get a job'. With you, I think it's the opposite and will be more like, 'I hope she doesn't get a job, so I can spend more time with her'."

"Guilty as charged."

"You lovely man. I know you would gladly support me while you live, but I'm afraid that I'm going to live longer than you. The older I get, the harder it will be for me to get a job. What happens when you aren't around to love me and support me?"

"The house and the property are paid for, the solar panels cover my electricity and even make some money, the water comes from a well, I have a septic system so there's no sewer bill, and you could grow a fair bit of food. Well, other than buying some food you can't grow, paying for clothes, phone, and maintenance, if you're frugal, the money I've set aside should last you probably the rest of your life. If worse came to worse, you could even sell some of the property and use the proceeds from that to support yourself."

She feels stunned at his suggestion and stares at him for awhile before she can get the words out, "You're serious."

"Yes. I've been thinking about rewriting my will. I just haven't taken the time to sit down and do it."

"No, George. You really don't need to do that."

"I know I don't need to, but I want to."

She pauses for a while to collect her thoughts then tells him, "You wonderful man. How lucky I am to have you in my life. Maybe Mariam is right. Maybe I really am lucky. There's no need for you to change your will to support me after you're gone."

"I know you can probably earn more in a few years than I earned in my entire life, but I would still rather give you my books and my home and everything that goes with them, because I know you'll appreciate them and put them to good use."

"Oh George," she proclaims as tears roll down her cheeks, "you're such a generous giving man." All she can do is hug him tight and wish she could melt into him.

Sometime later, he leans back and she reluctantly relaxes her hold on him. He gently wipes her cheeks as he says, "I certainly didn't intend to make you cry."

"Your generosity is overwhelming. Every time I turn around, you're giving and giving some more. I know you like to claim that you're being selfish, but even if your giving is selfishly motivated, the fact is you're still giving. You may hope for something in return, but you don't expect anything in return. Oh, George, I don't deserve you. I know you think you don't deserve my external beauty, but the truth of the matter is I don't deserve your inner beauty; your kindness, your gentleness, your generosity, your compassion, your comfort, and your touching."

He kisses the tears from her cheeks as he tells her, "All of those apply to you, my lady. You opened your home and your heart to a decrepit half dead old man."

"I only did that because I already knew you were special and I wanted to spend more time with you to find out why and how you're special. George, before that sixth-day when I sat on your knees and kissed you, the only men I could tolerate within a couple of feet of me were my dad and his dad. Even with my other male relatives, I had to grit my teeth to give them the obligatory hug. Since I've been in your arms, I've been able to give Uncle Paul a sincere hug. For me to sit on your knees and kiss you in your vehicle was totally against all of my behavior patterns. I was comfortable with you, I wanted to be there.

"Later, my reasoning kicked in and I asked myself, 'What in the world am I doing?' All I could respond was, 'I don't know, but it's right.' For days I agonized, I questioned, I doubted, I tried to forget about you. Those days while I helped Aunt Paula in the store, I kept hoping to see you and dreading it at the same time. George, you're a very very special man. I don't understand how I get to be the recipient of your love, but I intend to be very selfish and wallow in all of the love you so willing give me. I just hope I can give you enough in return so your reservoir of love and care doesn't run empty and you dry up and blow away."

It takes him a little while to come up with a response, "Oh. . . . Um. . . . The last thing I want to do is to hurt you by disagreeing with you, but from my view, the picture is quite different. . . . For a kind beautiful woman to sit on a strange undeserving old man and kiss him like you did, was wonderful beyond belief. To be allowed to share your life and touch your body is even more wonderful. It seems like what little I give you, I receive twice as much in return and I have twice as much more to give. If I have a reservoir of love, it's only because you've filled it up to overflowing."

"I don't know, George, the more I hear your stories about your interactions with other people and as I correlate them with what I've heard from Aunt Paula, I think you had that reservoir of love and care all along, but kept it hidden out of a sense of self-preservation."

"Whether it was hidden, buried, or never there, it doesn't really matter, since it was you who either found it, unburied it, or built it, and it's you who filled it up. Before I met you, I could have cheerfully watched the world go up in flames. Since you came into my life, I've begun to realize that maybe there is a little hope, maybe we can make a difference in the lives of a few other people. I want to monopolize your time, but maybe I can learn to share a little and encourage the development of other potential Sharlene's and make the world a little bit better for everyone."

"We will, George, somehow we will. I don't know how I know, but something you said or the way you said it, turned the light on for me. For a long time I've thought vaguely of wanting to help the less advantaged. When I was on my engineering internship, I was brought face to face with the reality of extreme poverty, but I still felt like my hands were tied and I wasn't sure where to begin, because there are so many and the needs are so great.

"For some reason, I know that somehow we'll make the world a better place. I have no clue of the details, but that's normal for me. I often get the assurance long before I have the evidence or the details to back up the assurance. It was the same with my feelings towards you. I knew you were the right man long before I could understand or explain it. Even as I grow in my understanding of how wonderful you are, so does my assurance that you, and only you, are the right man for me. We're partners, we're mates, and I know you don't like the term, but we're married, not by the legal or religious definitions, but in how it should be."

He hesitates before he admits in a softer voice, "I know."

She briefly caresses his face then says, "You don't have to sound so glum about it."

George holds her face with his hands and looks deep into Sharlene's eyes as he tells her, "It's not you, my love. You're my completeness. I can't imagine my life without you. I don't know how I existed before I met you," he drops his eyes then continues, "but the term 'marriage' carries with it so much emotional, political, religious, and cultural garbage that what it should be is so buried and lost, it might never have been."

Sharlene lifts his chin with her left hand to look into his eyes while she caresses his face with her right hand as she tells him, "Then you and I will have to live to the best of our abilities as full partners whose completeness is only in the other person, yet are willing to share our love as we fill each other up to overflowing." She leans forward while she pulls his face close and she kisses him as thoroughly as she can. While he catches his breath, she gently kisses his face.

"I'm not quite sure what you meant or the implications of what you said, since I'm a rather simple man, but as long as I'm allowed to stay with you and touch you, then I'm happy."

"I can't claim to understand the full implications of what I said either, but it was right. As far as you staying with me, it's not just allowed, but I selfishly insist on it. You have a gift for touching me and I intend to encourage your full expression of that gift. If my emotional recordings, which you inspire me to express, have just a fraction of the value I'm beginning to suspect they might have, then we will change the world.

"I had no idea that my emotional expression of intimate pleasure was any better than anyone else's, but if what Mariam and Julie said is true, if women can feel what intimate pleasure can be, then maybe they won't settle for less and if men can understand what it should be for a woman, then maybe they'll make more of an effort to please her which would hopefully result in better relationships. I know there are a lot of 'if's and variables in all of that, yet even the simple advice you gave Aunt Paula made a big difference in her relationship with Uncle Paul. The world won't be changed overnight, but in the improvement of one relationship at a time." She pushes him back slightly and slides down his body and off of the counter as she says, "Come on, let's go get you washed up."

As he starts to turn with her, he says, "Sharlene, I . . ." then quickly grabs onto the counter and braces himself.

"What's the matter?"

"My legs were in one position for too long and aren't ready for quick moves."

"I'm sorry."

"You couldn't have known. I didn't even think about it. Can you please get me something to drink? I'm going to try to sit down at the table for a little while."

While he remains leaning on the counter, he slowly and carefully moves his legs one at a time, flexes them to get them functioning again, and makes his way to the table where he sits in the chair she pulls out for him, takes the glass she hands him, takes a long drink, and sets it down.

"Thank you, love. Come," as he pats his legs, "sit." When it looks like she's going to protest, he requests, "Please."

Cautiously, she sits on his upper legs as she says, "This isn't good for your legs."

"Maybe, but at the moment, something else is more important."

* * * * *

2147-08-35 (a3)

As he snugly hugs her to him, George takes a few moments to gather his thoughts before he tells her, "Sharlene, I know the word is overused, but on the basis that its supposed meaning is well known, I love you very much. I cherish you like no other. You are my partner, my completeness. I . . . I can't even express how much you mean to me. I also want you and desire you very much. That you want me, thrills me beyond belief. I get excited at the idea that you're not only willing, but even want to wash up my messes. Just as I get excited at the idea of washing you, whether at the sink, in the bathtub, or in the shower. It's right that we touch each other. It's right that we want to wash each other. Anything we mutually agree to do with each other is right." He pauses then gently places a finger over her lips before he asks, "Does that make sense?"

She nods her head in response.

"Okay. With what I say next, I don't want to hurt you, or dissuade you, or discourage you, or make you feel bad, or anything of the sort. Sharlene, as the partners we agree we are and want to grow together to be more so, it's right that I slowly take all of your clothes off and we make love, but not yet. It's right that I wash your body and give you pleasure while doing so, but not yet. It's right that you're willing to wash up my messes, but not yet. It's not the activity, but the timing which is out of synch.

"Other than you kissing me on that sixth-day, we've only been touching each other for about three weeks. It's been a glorious, wonderful three weeks, and in some ways it seems like it's been excitingly so much longer. In a sense, we're already making love as our pubic areas rub on each other and as we climax together. We just happen to have a couple of pieces of cloth between us. You don't know how anxious I am to remove that cloth from between us, but not yet."

He pauses to take a drink before he continues, "From what I've learned about you, we're very compatible. We have many of the same likes and dislikes. We both want to touch and be touched. In many ways, you aren't the stereotypical woman. In many ways, I'm not the stereotypical man. We meet somewhere in between. We're the oddballs who happened to have found each other, and, I hope, belong together. Most people will only notice the external differences. Well, they say that opposites attract.

"I can't claim I was meant for you or that you were meant for me, but I've never met anyone I wanted in my life more than you. I don't mean to sound like I'm rambling, but what I'm trying to say is that it was only about a month ago we even met, and already we feel like we're life partners, soul mates, married, or whatever term you want to use. One month is a mighty short period of time for two people to meet, fall in love, get engaged, and be married."

"Damn, George, are you always right?"

"No."

"When you put it in those terms, we have been moving pretty fast." Sharlene grins at him then says, "And here I am, trying to push us even faster."

"I'm not exactly innocent of wanting to go faster. When I first envisioned the idea of a journey of touching you, it was at a much slower pace."

"Are you skipping steps?"

"No. There's been some shuffling of steps as we find ourselves naturally touching in some ways sooner than I expected. The steps are there. There's just a lot less time in between each step."

"Why is that?"

"You were much more ready to be touched than I expected. I'm certainly not blaming you, I just misjudged. I saw your external appearance of almost childlike innocence and didn't see the woman inside who was enjoying her first sexual experience and wanted more. So I guessed that I might touch you once every two or three days in the same or similar way for three or four times before moving on to the next step. I never guessed you would want to be touched for intimate pleasure three or four times a day."

"Have I disappointed you that I'm not the innocent young lady you thought I was?"

George shakes his head and tries to explain, "No, I'm certainly not disappointed. In many ways, you are an innocent young lady. That's what's scares me and thrills me about our relationship. It scares me that I'll unintentionally hurt you or scare you off. At the same time I'm thrilled that you allow me to touch you and lead you to know and enjoy intimate pleasure. When I say innocent, it's in the sense that you don't know the emotional and physical damage which can too easily occur in a sexual relationship. That means you're free to enjoy the physical sensations in their fullness, without interfering negative emotional baggage."

"Only because you're providing such a safe environment in which I'm able to enjoy all of those wonderful physical sensations."

"You were innocent of the potential damage of such a relationship long before I met you."

She hesitates before she admits, "That's true."

"I guess what I misjudged was your interest in intimate pleasure. As we've talked and as we've gotten to know each other better, it sounds like you were interested in intimacy as a young teenager, but because you arrived later at sexual maturity than your age group and you were hearing the exploits of those who were even older, you buried your interest in intimate matters and concentrated on your education. Yet the interest was bubbling away deep down inside of you. What I thought was going to happen, was that the seed of intimate interest you expressed in my pickup was going to need to be watered, protected, fertilized, and given plenty of warm sunshine and fresh air as it slowly grew, budded, and blossomed forth into mature beauty."

"Instead, I was more like a volcano which was waiting for the crust to crack open so I could burst forth and say here I am, take me."

He winces then says, "Ouch, nothing so harsh and violent. No, instead of blackberries which ripen in later summer, you were more like a crocus or a daffodil which blooms when there's still snow on the ground or shortly afterwards."

"Thank you, George, that's a much nicer picture. So why did you use blackberries instead of a flower?"

"I couldn't think of a flower off the top of my head which only blooms in late summer or early fall."

Sharlene kisses him before she tells him, "You're simply marvelous. You always want to express yourself in the most gentle and positive way. I appreciate it. So you're not disappointed in me?

He shakes his head and assures her, "Not at all."

"You're excited at me being excited?"

"Very much so."

"Thank you very much for leading me on this journey. I very much want to go every step, even as I keep pushing you to skip steps. You've already touched me in ways I would have never imagined. If we had let our desires loose and gone straight to making love, I would have never known there were so many ways of being touched which results in intimate pleasure. Thank you for sitting me down and talking to me about it. Any other man would have thrown the idea of the journey out of the window and had his way with me and I would have been left wondering what I had missed out on.

"George, that's a big part of why you're so special to me. I know you greatly desire me. You proved that just a little while ago. Yet how many times have you restrained yourself to such a point that I could barely see the desire in your eyes or hear it in your voice." She pauses and turns her head away before she continues, "You humble me, old man. I'm yelling for more and you're calmly saying, 'not yet,' with such gentle patience. Forgive me for pushing you. And if I forget, keep reminding me that we're getting there and that a little patience will be greatly rewarded."

He reaches out one of his hands, gently turns her head towards him, and tells her, "Sharlene, there's nothing for you to ask forgiveness for. I should be asking forgiveness from you for requesting that you delay your desires for the sake of an arbitrarily defined journey. Actually, your willingness to delay your desires is incredible. Most young people, after they experience their first sexual pleasure, especially if it's enjoyable, can't seem to get enough."

"I know that feeling. You even seem to feel it."

"It's true. I can't get enough of you."

"George, please keep taking me on the journey. Even if you have to sit me down and talk to me every day. I'll try to exercise more patience and remind myself that if I jump ahead, I'll miss the way you touched me today or yesterday or will touch me tomorrow. Something you said earlier will help as long as I keep reminding myself of it and that is, how would my mom react if I told her I married a man I had only met a month ago."

"Oh? And what would your mom's reaction be?"

"Probably something like heart failure."

"We don't want that."

"I don't mean to disparage my mom, but what would make it worse is that she would blame Aunt Paula for being a bad influence on me."

He hesitates before he asks, "What about your dad?"

"He'll be quite surprised. As long as I can assure him that I wasn't forced into the relationship and that I tried to approach it using at least some level of reasoning rather than just infatuation, he'll support me."

"Are there any other significant members of your family?"

"My dad's parents. Grandpa will say something like 'if that's what you want, go for it'." Sharlene chuckles then says, "Grandma will probably ask some pointed questions and then say something like, 'good for you, take him out of circulation before someone else finds him'. So, my wonderful man, consider yourself out of circulation."

"I never considered myself in circulation."

"You put out that personal ad."

"That was an absolute last gasp desperate gamble. I never expected anything to come of it."

"You could have said something nicer about yourself."

"But I am a boring old man, at least until you came into my life. And that's all that matters." He thoroughly kisses her. "All that matters is you. You. You. . . ." as he gently pokes her with a finger on her nose, in her side, on her arm, with each poke repeating, "You", in her upper abdomen, on her back, on her knee, on her neck, as her giggles turn to laughter while he pokes her randomly where he can easily reach and has intentionally touched her before. Sometimes he speeds up the pokes to a staccato, sometimes he slows them down, until he gently grabs her face with his hands and kisses her again to which she enthusiastically responds.

* * * * *

2147-08-35 (a4>e1)

When they're both nearly breathless, they break the kiss and she snuggles closer to George then has to take some more deep breaths before she can proclaim, "Oh, you wonderful man."

"Sharlene, thank you so much for coming into my life and allowing me to be with you. I know it's very selfish on my part, but the only ways I can think of to express my gratitude to you are the very things I keep saying 'not yet' about."

"You may think it's selfish on your part, but I can't think of any other way I would want you to express your gratitude."

"I was somewhat afraid you would say that."

That puzzles her so she asks, "Afraid?"

"Temptation loometh nigh. And before it overwhelms me, I'm going to chase you off of my lap, go empty my bladder, wash up my mess, start the laundry, work on dinner, and hopefully distract temptation for awhile." Gently, he pushes her off of his upper legs. Just as she's about ready to turn to him, straddle his legs, and kiss him passionately breathless, she pauses and instead she turns and gives him a helping hand out of the chair, which he apparently needs.

"What's the matter, George?"

"I'm not sure whether it's arthritis, circulation, being out of shape, or just what, but often if I stay in one position for too long, whether it's standing, sitting, or laying, it doesn't matter, I get stiff and it takes a little while for everything to start moving again."

"I don't know how much it will help, but a little more diligence with the tai-chi should help with a couple of those possibilities and maybe we can narrow down the possible causes."

"I'm sorry, I've been neglecting it."

"I'm just as much to blame because I haven't been reminding you. Unless an activity becomes an ingrained habit, it's too easy to let it slip away."

"Don't I know." When they reach his bedroom door, he briefly kisses her and says, "I think I'll be okay."

"While you're being so busy distracting temptation, how am I supposed to keep it away?"

"How about I leave the salad to your imagination? It will probably have to be mostly from the garden, so feel free to use whatever you want."

"I can do that. George," she pulls his head down to kiss him breathless then tells him, "I love you," before she quickly turns and walks away.

When he can do something more than just breathe, he says, "I love you too, little lady," to an empty hallway. With joy, desire, regret, and a multitude of other emotions vying for attention, he takes care of his needs then starts his laundry.

Later, when the chickens are cooked, the salad is made, and the rice is almost done, George is hanging up shirts from a second load of laundry to make it through the dryer when Sharlene stops playing the piano in order to answer the doorbell, and says, "Aunt Paula, Uncle Paul, come in."

Paula hugs her as she says, "You answered the door quick."

"I was playing the piano."

As Paul hugs her, he says in surprise, "I didn't know you played."

"When I was in college and medical school I was very busy and I didn't want to be moving my piano by myself, so I set it aside for a few years. It was such a wonderful surprise to see that George had one and he's been encouraging me to play."

"So where is the old fraud?"

"I think he's in the laundry room finishing up."

As Paul goes to look for George, Paula pulls Sharlene back into a hug and whispers, "How are you doing?"

"Absolutely wonderful. George is a dream. He's so kind and gentle. Even when he scolds me, he's very tender and considerate."

"Why would he scold you?"

Sharlene has an embarrassed blush on her cheeks as she says, "Because I keep pushing him to touch me more than he's ready to touch me."

With her eyes wide in surprise, Paula exclaims, "You're kidding! No, you're not kidding. HE's having to tell YOU to slow down?"

Sharlene nods her head.

Paula shakes her head then exclaims, "I'll be damned. I never would have imagined. He's more of a saint than I guessed."

"If his expression of desire for me is any indication, he's not a saint, but his ability to refrain from demonstrating his desire is unbelievable. At least compared to everything I've heard about male desire and their sexual appetites."

"I assume that his restraint is because he wants to slowly increase how much he touches you instead of directly hopping into bed to have sex."

"That's right. He refers to it as a journey of touching which slowly progresses from one level to the next. I have to agree with what you've heard and said, George knows how to touch a woman. Yet as he's said, he only has two hands like almost all other men. I can't explain why I find his touching to be so wonderful, but I do and it's so exciting I want more and more and more."

"All I can say is that I'm happy for you, for both of you. In a way, I'm a little jealous of you, but no matter how much I liked his touching and recognized his capability for more creative touching, I wouldn't have been happy with him or made him happy with me."

"Thank you Aunt Paula. I really appreciate your support of our unusual relationship. I know you didn't intend for this to happen, but I'm very grateful you introduced us and took the time to help me work through my early feelings and uncertainties about him."

"What's important to me is that you're happy and comfortable with your decisions. I'm also glad George has found some joy in life. No matter how much I couldn't have lived with him, I still care very much about that old man."

"Dinner time, ladies."

Their private talk ends when they hear George's announcement so they help finish setting the table and the four of them enjoy the food and light conversation.

After dinner and once the table is cleared and the chicken bones are in a big pot to simmer for broth, George asks Paula and Paul to occasionally check his mail for the next couple of weeks when they go back to Sharlene's. He also tells them about his conversation with Darren Harvey and that if Darren stops by their place, George requests that they get his phone number and schedule so they might get together while he admits he forgot to ask for them at the butcher shop. They readily agreed to both requests.

* * * * *

It's not even a couple of hours later before Paula and Paul are giving hugs, saying goodbye, going out of the door, and driving off in Paul's pickup. Sharlene slips into George's arms and says, "They didn't seem upset, but they left rather early for the short drive back to their place. It's not much earlier than this that they would leave my place in the city for the long drive back. Do you have any idea of what's going on?"

"I'm guessing they decided to go parking."

"From the way you say it, there must be a double meaning to the word 'parking'."

He chuckles then says, "Maybe it's a term no longer used by the younger generations. An even older term is 'sparking'. Do they use the term 'necking' anymore?"

"I've heard 'necking', but when I heard it, the context gave no clue as to its meaning and I was considered too young for anyone to want to explain the code to me."

"All three terms, and who knows how many other terms over the generations, basically refer to young people sneaking off away from adult supervision to kiss. Or more, if they think they can get away with it. The term 'parking' was sometimes used a little more specifically to do that kissing in a vehicle parked in some secluded location."

"So why would Aunt Paula and Uncle Paul want to sit in a cramped vehicle to kiss when they have a house to themselves and a nice bed to do more than kiss?"

"I can't speak for Paula and Paul, but some people have fond memories of their early kissing adventures or of the thrill of getting away with kissing without their parents knowing about it and when they have the opportunity, they like to try to recreate the situation. Or to make believe they're young and wild again. I don't know. People may hint or wink or make subtle suggestions, but I don't recall ever hearing of someone who could or was willing to explain why they want to do it. As long as they mutually agree and mutually enjoy, more power to them."

Sharlene tightens her hug then asks, "So, old man, where would you take a willing young lady to sneak off and kiss her without adult supervision?"

"The first thing I would do would be to go to the bathroom to delay any biological interference."

She chuckles then says, "My ever practical man."

"Then, if a certain young lady is willing and still interested, I might be able to think of a more comfortable location than being cramped inside of a vehicle to do some kissing. And I don't mean a bed because I think I have my desires somewhat under control."

"I'm quite sure a certain young lady is more than willing. I'm glad you have your desires somewhat under control, because I'm having enough trouble controlling my own, so I don't need to try to control yours also. And before you run off," she pulls his head down, "I would like a brief preview of the coming attractions." Their kiss is brief only in the sense that neither is fully breathless when it ends and they walk down the hall to use the separate bathrooms.

* * * * *

2147-08-35 (e2)

Once their needs are taken care of, Sharlene is surprised to see him make sure all of the lights are out, except for the night light in the hallway and the back porch light. He also checks to make sure the front and laundry room doors are locked. After he requests that she remain on the back porch, she's even more curious when he takes one of the lounge chairs and sets it out in the middle of the yard. With an arm around her waist, he walks her back to the sliding glass door and turns out the porch light which plunges them into darkness.

As he keeps his arm around her, George explains, "If you're willing to continue to go along, I would like you to close your eyes now and keep them closed until I say to open them. In a couple of minutes, I'll try to guide you as carefully as I can to the lounge chair which I set in the yard. I'll go as slow as you're comfortable walking with your eyes closed. When we get there, I'll sit down and would like you to sit on my lap. When we're more or less comfortable, I'll ask you to open your eyes. Does that sound okay?"

"My eyes are already closed. While we're waiting, maybe you can warm up my lips."

"Are you getting chilled? Shall I get you a sweater?"

"No, silly. I mean warm my lips up, as in give them some practice."

"Your lips are so wonderful, they don't . . ."

Her lips stop his further explanation, after she slid a hand up his chest, around his neck, and pulled his head down. When she has enough breath, she tells him, "For a rather quiet man, sometimes you talk too much," and she kisses him again.

A little while later, he asks, "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

With his left arm around her waist and his right hand holding her right hand, he suggests, "Okay, slowly start to walk forward. . . . Good. . . . Stop. Just in front of your toes is the edge of the porch and a slight step down onto the grass. Now, one foot at a time, step out and down."

As she starts to stumble, George tightens his grip to hold her up. When she's steady, she remarks, "For such a little distance lower than the porch, it seemed like my foot was never going to find the grass."

He briefly forgets she can't see him as he nods his head in agreement then verbally responds, "It's kind of amazing how much we rely on our eyesight."

"Yeah."

"Okay, slow steps forward. . . . You're doing good. . . . Stop. We're at the lounge chair. I'm going to slightly change how we sit down to something which might be easier for you. Let me turn you slightly and come around in front of you in order to hold your hands. Now you're perpendicular to the lounge chair and if you slide one foot back just a little, you can feel where it is. Okay, while I hold your hands to balance you, sit down. Or if you would prefer, reach back with one hand while I hold your other."

"Rather than hold my hands, let's grip each other's wrists, then you can lower me down until I'm sitting."

"Okay, let me brace myself a little better. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Lowering away." Soon, she's sitting on the lounge chair, even though it seemed like she was almost to the ground before she felt the lounge chair under her buttocks. He says, "Good. Now I'm going to come around behind you," as he slides one hand up her arm and across her shoulders, "and sit down. Do you feel my leg behind you?"

"Yes."

"Okay. If you would, lift yourself up and sit on my leg and then rotate yourself ninety degrees to the right. Good. Now I'm going to lay back." He places his hands on her lower back and requests, "Now you can lay back while I support you with my hands on your back. Good. How do I need to move or you need to move, for you to be more comfortable?"

She makes a couple of minor adjustments, pulls his arms around to hug her, pauses a moment, pulls the bottom of her shirt out of her pants so his hands are on the bare skin of her upper abdomen, leans her head back next to his cheek, and asks, "Do we start to kiss now?"

"Not quite, my anxious lady. Two more steps. Without opening your eyes, look up at the sky. Now open your eyes."

As her eyes take in the star studded sky, she proclaims, "Oh George, it's beautiful." Sharlene looks around the sky in awe. "The Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, the North Star, . . . Kassiopeia, . . . Orion. I've never seen them so clear before. Thank you, George." She pulls his arms tighter to her and continues to stare at the sky.

Sometime later, he whispers in her ear, "So, my angel, which one of those planets, stars, or galaxies are you from?"

Since she's so surprised by his question, she asks, "What?"

"You're too wonderful to be merely human. I was just wondering where you really come from. Maybe you're not from the stars, maybe you're from a different dimension or an alternate universe where they've perfected genetic engineering. No wonder you don't consider yourself beautiful. Everyone is a model of perfection from wherever you come from. Or maybe you're from the same solar system, like Venus and you're the embodiment of the Roman goddess of love."

Sharlene laughs then says, "Not hardly. Venus was quite a bit bigger and rounder than I am, at least in all of the pictures and statutes I've seen."

"Well, you know the Romans, they wanted everything bigger; bigger empire, bigger coliseum, bigger armies, bigger women."

"For a boring old man, you can come up with some of the silliest ideas. Different dimensions, alternate universes, distant planets, get real."

"It's kind of hard to get real, when I'm holding my dream."

She rolls onto her right side to kiss his neck and nibble his ear then says, "Poor George. He doesn't know whether his dream is real or his reality is a dream." With her left hand on his cheek, she turns his head towards her and kisses him. "Does that help?"

"It's very nice. Since I don't know what it's supposed to help, I think I'll try it again," and this time he initiates the kiss. As one kiss leads to another, they're both rather surprised they're able to keep the desire at bay, so their kissing is more playful than passionate.

Quite some time later, she lays her head next to his head and snuggles closer to him then realizes that sometime during their kissing she had rolled over so she's laying on him face to face. A little later, she proclaims, "Mmm, that was fun. Thank you. . . . I kept expecting the desire to build and overwhelm me. I'm surprised it didn't."

He tilts his head to lightly kiss her forehead before he responds, "I know what you mean." He yawns. "Sorry about that. Maybe that's part of the reason."

"It has been a rather busy day. Shall I take my old man to bed?"

"I would say 'yes' except that means getting up which means chasing you off of me, which I really don't want to do."

"Your bed is a much more comfortable place to sleep."

"I know. Now if I could just levitate and float into the house and into my bed without moving you away from here, but, alas, my levitation abilities leave a lot to be desired."

"Come on, greedy. You can't have me laying on you all of the time." As she gets up, he obviously reluctantly releases her and follows suit.

He takes the lounge chair and puts it back on the porch then they carefully make their way to the sliding glass door where he suggests, "Cover your eyes. I'm going to turn on the porch light." He turns on the porch light, waits a little while, then opens the door, guides her through, and closes it. After he turns the adjustable dining room light on and down to dim, he turns the porch light out and locks the sliding glass door.

Since she's somewhat puzzled by his behavior, she asks, "Was there a reason for turning the porch light on when you could have just turned on the dining room light?"

"If there were any bugs flying around the porch, they would have been attracted to the porch light and less likely to fly into the house when I opened the door."

"Smart man. Is there anything we need to do before I tuck you in? Or maybe I'll just crawl in with you."

"Mmm, that would be nice. I'd better at least get something to drink or I'll be partially dehydrated by morning."

After they get drinks and double check the doors and turn off the last of the lights, they each get ready for bed.

Just before he's about to pull back the covers to get into bed, she pokes her head around his bedroom door, and asks, "George?"

"Yes?"

"Are you dressed?"

"If you call being in pajamas dressed, then yes."

"Would you be willing to brush my hair?"

"I would love to. I'll warn you, I might find it so relaxing I fall asleep."

"I thought I was the one to be relaxed by having my hair brushed."

"I guess you'll just have to share."

After her hair has been brushed to a glossy shine and he's starting to get sleepy, she takes the comb and brush from him and stands up. He follows her in standing up, steps around the end of the bed to his side of it, then stops and stares as she quite literally crawls up the bed, puts her comb and brush on the headboard, pulls back the covers from his side and before he can move, she rolls over onto the sheet, scoots back and holds the covers up for him in clear invitation which is enhanced by her warm smile. He quickly comes out of his daze and slips under the covers. She pulls the covers up, lays her head on his left shoulder, snuggles close, slips her left hand under his pajama top, and gently caresses his chest while his left arm across her back hugs her close. His conscious enjoyment of her closeness is short lived as he soon falls asleep and, to her surprise, she's not far behind.

* * * * *

2147-08-36 (n>a)

When he wakes up in the dark of the late night, George gently slips out of Sharlene's embrace and goes to the bathroom. As he steps out of the bathroom, he's surprised to feel an arm go around him, a warm body move close to him, and another hand pull his head down for an even warmer kiss before she says, "My turn."

She closes the bathroom door behind her and he stands there for what he thinks is just a moment, but the next thing he knows, she comes out of the bathroom and guides him back to bed. Wordlessly, she directs him to lay down, lays on top of him face to face, pulls the covers up, gives him a longer warm kiss, lays her head on the pillow, and between nibbles on his ear, she suggests, "Go back to sleep, George." He shortly does and she follows not long after.

* * * * *

Sharlene wakes up to the morning sunlight shining through the windows and finds that George has her in a rather firm hug even while he's asleep. She tries to gently move in a couple of different ways, but to no avail. She would enjoy it, except that she needs . . . after a moment's thought, she whispers in his ear, "George, I need to go to the bathroom," he releases his grip, and she's able to get up. Since she knows she'll be restless now if she goes back to bed and since she's unwilling to disturb his sleep any more, she gets dressed and enjoys a cup of tea.

She goes out the back door, walks to the side door of the garage and finds that George's house key fits the lock there. After a brief pause to remember where he said things were, she soon finds and tops off Molly's food dispenser. As she locks the garage door, she turns and finds Molly there to greet her. She pets Molly for awhile before Molly trots off, but before Sharlene can walk to the back porch, Molly is there and pushes a ball into her hand.

For several minutes, she throws the ball for Molly and sometimes she throws it high in the air and then races to get there before Molly. Only once does she almost beat Molly, but Molly seems to think it's a grand variation of the game. When Sharlene is tired enough to need to stop and rest for a moment, Molly companionably leans on her. After she enjoys some more petting, Molly gives Sharlene's hand a quick lick, picks up her ball, and trots off while Sharlene goes back into the house.

It's not much longer before he gets up, they have breakfast, and he starts the rest of his laundry. With her help, he changes the sheets on the beds. As they look over what's in the fridge and ought to be used up, most of it can go into chicken soup, so they package up some of the chicken broth from last night for the freezer and use the rest as a base for a batch of chicken soup. While he deals with the laundry, double checks his bills, and begins to pack, she grabs a few things out of the garden to add to the chicken soup which will go into the freezer after it's cooked and at least partially cooled. After they set aside sandwich makings for lunch, the rest of the perishable items in the fridge will be able to go in the small cooler which she had used to bring the perishables from her fridge.

After lunch, George finishes his laundry and packing and as they pile the luggage and other things to take with them by the front door, Sharlene is somewhat concerned about how it will all fit. She's not sure if there will be room for a box of lingerie in her vehicle so she stuffs her luggage as full as she can with what she had set aside to take to her place. There's still plenty more she had set aside to take, not counting what she intends to leave here.

It's still an hour or so before they intend to leave, so while she starts to put things in the vehicle, he checks over the yard and makes sure the garage is locked up and everything is as secure as he can make it. As her mind wanders over the events of the last few days, she realizes that her desires have been somewhat subdued compared to the last several days. Yeah, they've been touching, caressing, and grabbing kisses when they've been near each other, but it's been more like taking a pause while doing their chores rather than interrupting their chores.

She takes out her phone and checks the calendar function then realizes that it's the right time for her hormonal cycle. She had wondered off and on what affect it would have on her newly awakened desires. She makes a note on her calendar to pay attention to her level of desire over the next several cycles to see if that can be the explanation or if she needs to look for another reason.

While he finishes what he was working on, she plays the piano since she assumes it will be at least a couple of weeks before she'll have another opportunity. A few minutes later, he's standing next to the piano and listening to her play. When she finishes a song and looks up at him, he says, "I would like to listen to you play a lot longer, but I'm ready to go whenever you are." In response, she plays part of a theme song from an old frontier television show which sounds like galloping horses. Then grin at each other then hold hands as they take a brief walk down the hall and separate to use the bathrooms. Soon, they put the last of the things into the vehicle, it's full but not overflowing, he locks up, and they drive off and make a brief stop to let Paula know they're on their way.

A few miles outside of town, George directs Sharlene to pull into an unpaved parking lot and explains, "I know it doesn't look like much on the outside, but it's clean on the inside and the food is very good." He holds the door open for her and as she steps in, she sees that the interior isn't fancy, but it's clean and neat, and she's almost bowled over by a large woman who comes up to George as though she's going to hug him, but doesn't quite feel free to do so.

"George, you here. Long time you no see. Yohseef, George, he here."

Sharlene is curious about the woman's accent and less than fluent standard while George exchanges hand waves with a man in the kitchen and responds, "Hello, Maria. How are you?"

"Good doing. Oh, I sorry. George, lady friend bring?"

"Yes, Maria, this is Sharlene, my friend."

"So pretty," and she wraps Sharlene in a hug. "Ladies be safe to hug. Which men not sure."

Since she takes a quick liking to Maria, Sharlene says, "George gives good hugs."

"Okay, George I hug?"

"Sure."

Before he knows it, he gets hugged. "Always like men to hug," Maria winks at Sharlene. "Come, nice table in corner to you I give." She directs them to a quiet corner and waits until they're seated before she hands them menus then says, "Waitress, she soon be here."

George asks in surprise, "A waitress, Maria?"

"I hostess now." Maria shakes her head then explains, "Waitress on feet, too hard. Job for young feet that be. Enjoy."

* * * * *

2147-08-36 (e1)

While she wishes she was back in the restaurant kitchen doing the cooking or even washing the dishes instead of being forced to be around people, Angelisa finishes taking another order, sighs to herself, and knows she's better suited, at least physically, to be a waitress than Maria is. As she turns away from serving a customer, she looks up and sees Mr. G walk in, then stops in surprise at seeing the small beautiful young woman who walks in with him. Is the young woman his granddaughter? No, something in their interaction and the way Maria greets them and even gets to hug Mr. G, suggests that the woman is his girlfriend . . . or more? Part of Angelisa is glad he's looking happier than she remembers him looking, but a part of her which she's afraid to admit to even herself, wishes she was the woman by his side who is receiving those warm joyous looks.

Angelisa turns in an order to Yohseef then takes a few moments to try to control her churning emotions before she goes to take George's order. She notices that they're looking over their menus when she steps near their table, pauses, then says, "Hello, Mr. G. How are you doing?"

George looks up, says, "Hi, Angelisa." A moment later, he realizes, "So you're the 'young feet' who gets to be the waitress for Maria."

"Yes. Being on her feet all of the time is getting to be too much for Mama. I'm old enough now and, although the pay isn't much, it saves her from having to hire someone else." Out of the corner of her eye, Angelisa watches the woman look her over and wishes she could know what the other woman is thinking.

As they greet each other, Sharlene sees a young slender woman, probably in her late teens or early twenties, who has hair almost as long and as dark as hers with a lighter skin tone, and has many of the body features which society would say define her as an attractive woman.

"Angelisa, I would like you to meet my friend Sharlene Schmidt. Sharlene, this is Angelisa, Maria's daughter. I had the privilege of helping her and her younger brother with their reading at the public library program I told you about."

As she reaches across the table to shake hands, Angelisa says, "It's nice to meet you," and tries to decide how much she means it. She turns back and says, "Mr. G, I was real sorry to hear you had a heart attack or something. Was it bad?"

"To be honest, I died. If it wasn't for Sharlene here, my new address would be the cemetery."

Suddenly everything changes and Angelisa asks, "You're Doctor Schmidt?"

"Yes."

"Way cool!" Angelisa sits down across from them and says, "I thought you had to be old to be a doctor."

Sharlene laughs then responds, "Not old. I was able to start college younger than normal, so I was able to finish medical school younger than most."

"How long does it take?"

"After college, most medical schools require four years of academics plus one year of internship before you can take the tests and be licensed as a medical doctor. If you want to specialize, that's usually another three years."

With wide eyes, Angelisa exclaims, "Wow. That's eight years after four years of college. And I'm thinking it's tough to just get through high school."

George asks, "How are you doing?"

"So far, I'm keeping my grades up and I like to learn, but it gets harder when I don't see much hope for anything after high school. Mama certainly can't pay for me to go to college. Even if I received a big scholarship to go to college, she might not be able to afford to keep the restaurant open if she has to hire someone to replace me and pay them a full wage."

Sharlene joins the conversation, "I'm sure you dreamed your folks could afford to let you go to college." As she sees Angelisa nod her head, she asks, "When you dreamed, what did you think you would want to do?"

"I've thought of being a nurse or a doctor. I've helped some in the family with births and taking care of the ancient ones, so I know there's a lot of unpleasantness about it, but it made me feel good when I was able to help someone else. I've also thought about being a teacher because I've seen how much more I understand things after Mr. G helped me learn how to read standard. There are a lot of people in my extended family who don't have much education and sometimes they can't even get farm work."

"Don't give up on hope and don't give up your dreams. I'm not going to make you any promises, but maybe we can work together, do some research, and maybe figure out some ways to help you."

Angelisa looks at Sharlene in surprise then asks, "Really? But you don't even know me."

"But I know George and he would have said about the same thing."

"Really, Mr. G?"

"I was going to, but Sharlene beat me to it. I've already said about the same thing to Darren Harvey."

"Darren has always treated me decent, but his father gives me the creeps."

"Yeah, stay away from Leroy Harvey."

Angelisa pauses then asks, "Do you guys really want to help me?"

"I wanted to help you learn to read better, didn't I?"

"But, Mr. G, this is different."

"I don't see why. We'll get together, it might be a few weeks from now, maybe we can give you some ideas or suggestions which you haven't thought about yet. That's about the same as what I did in the reading program and Maria isn't going to chase me off and accuse me of child abuse."

"That would be great. I really appreciate it. You know, Mr. G, some of us were so mad about you leaving the reading program, we wore black arm bands for a couple of weeks afterwards."

It's his turn to be surprised then asks, "You really wore black arm bands?"

Angelisa nods her head as she answers, "That's right."

"I didn't know that. Thank you, that means a lot to me. It also makes me all the more willing to want to help you, because I know you'll appreciate it."

"I know you're not promising to pay my way or anything like that, but just knowing you guys want to help me look for a way to go to college, makes me feel a lot better."

"I'm glad. The world can use some more good doctors or nurses or teachers, even good waitresses. But I think you want to more directly help people and be able to support yourself which, these days, usually means having a college education. So we'll be happy to encourage you and, if we can, help you to reach your dreams. We would enjoy talking with you longer, but it looks like Maria is waving for you."

"Oops." Angelisa stands up, waves back, and says, "I didn't mean to sit and talk. Have you guys decided on what you would like?"

George glances at Sharlene who points at the menu and he answers, "I think we'll share a burrito platter and a bean and cheese dip, and have a couple of iced teas to drink."

Angelisa grins as she says, "Mama always believed in large servings because she never wants anyone to go away from her table hungry. I'll be right back with the iced teas." A couple of moments later, she sets the glasses on the table. "Here you go. Now I'd better go see what Mama wants."

As she feels Maria's half hug, it takes some of the sting out of the reprimand she gives her in their own language, "Angelisa, what have I said about treating the customers equally? Nobody wants to see someone else get more attention than what they're getting."

She wants to say, "But, Mama, it's Mr. G," as though that makes all the difference in the world, but what comes out of her mouth is a quiet, "Yes, Mama."

From a distance, George and Sharlene see Maria scowl and quietly scold Angelisa with one hand while the other arm is warmly hugging her. Sharlene smiles at the scene and says, "I wish more families could be like that, clearly loving their kids even when they're scolding them. So, why does she call you Mr. G?"

"At the reading program, the kids were instructed to call the tutors by their title and last name. Since I made it clear to the kids that I would prefer to be called George, but didn't want them to get into trouble by not using a title, we compromised on Mr. G. Of course the program leaders didn't know the 'G' was for George instead of Greyson. So the kids felt they had a secret from some of the leaders who thought I was just being tolerant of the little kids who had trouble pronouncing Greyson."

A little later, a preteen male who is pushing a cart comes near and says, "Hey, Mr. G."

"Huleeoh?"

"You got it in one."

George deepens his voice, "What's going down, my man?"

Huleeoh lifts his voice to a falsetto as he responds, "Whatever went up." They both start to laugh and begin a complicated, but brief 'handshake'. Huleeoh says, "You missed the twist, Mr. G."

George turns to Sharlene and explains, "It took me longer to learn that than it took Huleeoh to improve his reading and I still can't get it right. Huleeoh, I'd like you to meet Sharlene. Sharlene, I'd like you to meet Huleeoh. He's Maria's son." They greet each other and shake hands conventionally. George asks, "So, what'cha doing?"

"Mom's got me working as the busboy."

"What size of bus are you driving?"

"It's hu . . . humoon . . . it's really big. I was trying to use one of the new spelling words I have, but I can't even say it and they want me to spell it."

"Do you have it with you?"

"No," he quickly glances around, "but I can be back in a minute with it," and dashes off.

Soon Angelisa is there with their food and as she serves it, she asks, "Where did Huleeoh go?"

"He went to get his spelling list."

"Don't let him interrupt your meal. Enjoy. If you need anything else, holler."

"Thank you."

As she steps away, Angelisa struggles to control her emotions as she cherishes his gentle smile and half admits to herself that she wishes his warmer looks were directed at her. But if Doctor Schmidt, it's hard to imagine she's a doctor, saved his life, and is so beautiful on top of that, maybe she can understand his attraction to her. She stops in her tracks, wondering why she would want his warmer looks directed at her since she never wanted that from any man and on top of that, Mr. G is older than her grandfather. She doesn't completely squelch the thought, "Mr. G is gentle, safe, and would never hurt me."

A moment later, Huleeoh is back and points to his paper as he says, "It's this word. The rest I can say, even if I still have to work at spelling them."

"Humongous. That can be a tricky one because it's often slightly mispronounced. It's often said hu-mun-gus, but it should be said hu-mon-gus."

"Hu-mon-gus. How am I going to remember to spell that?"

"Let me think for a moment. . . . You know Hugh Montel up at the grocery store and Juan's mule Gus?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, picture Hugh giving Gus a one handed hug."

Huleeoh chuckles then says, "That's a funny picture, but how does it help me to spell the word?"

"A one handed hug could be a half of a hug or it could be half of a person giving a whole hug. So half of Hugh Montel giving the hug would be 'h-u' and 'm-o-n' and if Hugh hugs Gus around the neck, you'd have 'g-o-u-s'." George draws stick figures on a napkin to help visualize it.

Huleeoh runs it through his head a couple of times and his eyes light up as he proclaims, "That's it. Thanks, Mr. G."

"My pleasure, Huleeoh." They slap palms.

"Oops, I didn't mean to interrupt your meal. It was nice to meet you, Sharlene. Thanks again, Mr. G."

"Any time." As Huleeoh happily goes on about his work, George turns to her and says, "I didn't mean for you to wait before you started eating."

"That's quite all right. I was fascinated to watch how you came up with a way to help him."

"I don't always succeed and it greatly depends on the kid. I happen to know that Huleeoh is very visually oriented, so if he can draw a mental picture he can relate to what he's learning, it makes it much easier for him to learn, and usually the sillier it is the better. The same method probably wouldn't work with Angelisa."

"I continue to be amazed at you, old man," as she leans over and kisses his cheek.

* * * * *

2147-08-36 (e2)

A couple of moments later, Sharlene asks, "So, how's the food?"

"Try it."

She takes a small taste of the bean and cheese dip and her eyes widen in surprise before she announces, "Hey, this is good!"

George suggests, "Try dipping your burrito in it."

She does and proclaims, "Ah, wonderful." Without another word, they give themselves over to the meal and enjoy every bite.

Many minutes later, Sharlene pushes back her plate, takes a drink, and sighs, "That was excellent. Can we take the rest with us?"

"Of course. Maria always likes to see an empty plate, even if you have to take half of it with you, which I usually do."

Angelisa waits a couple of minutes after they appear to be done eating then walks over and asks, "How was dinner?"

George answers, "Very good as usual. Can we get something to take the rest with us?"

"Of course. I'll be right back. . . . Here you go. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Angelisa?"

"Yes, Doctor Schmidt?"

"First, call me Sharlene. And second, do you know if you have any family in the city who have a restaurant where they serve a bean and cheese dip like this?"

Angelisa eyes are wide as she asks, "I can really call you Sharlene?"

She nods her head.

"Wow, I'm on a first name basis with a doctor. Um, I think one of Mama's cousins has a small restaurant in the city, but I don't know what they serve. I can ask Mama if you want."

"I can ask her just as easily."

"Okay. I really appreciate your encouragement and interest in wanting to help me think about college. And whenever is convenient for you."

"Can you write down a phone number or email address for me to get in touch with you to make plans?"

"Sure. . . . Here you go."

"Thank you."

George suggests, "And take your tip before it gets buried in the dishes."

Angelisa takes the folded up credit note he hands her and slips it into her pocket without looking at it because she knows from experience how generous he is. "Thanks, Mr. G." Reluctantly, she steps away to wait on another customer.

As she nears the table of her next customer, Angelisa hears the door of the restaurant open, glances up, and feels panic when she recognizes the local gang walk in. She quickly steps over to Huleeoh who's cleaning a nearby table and whispers, "Huleeoh, quick, go guide the security cameras." He glances at her, then at who just walked in, and dashes off while he slips around and between people without them noticing him.

Angelisa's panic level heads for the ceiling when she sees the newly arrived people line an aisle while their leader, Hektor, heads directly to the table where George and Sharlene are sitting. Since she's afraid of what's going to happen, Angelisa wants to leap over the tables to stand in the way without caring what happens to her while at the same time she wants to find the deepest hole to crawl into. Instead, she's frozen in place and like everyone else, she's unable to do anything except observe.

George and Sharlene have just transferred their food to the takeout container when a voice intrudes, "Hey, good looking. Leave the old man and I'll show you a good time."

They look up and see a young man start to lean over the table. Sharlene deliberately looks around and says in a loud voice, "Are you talking to me?"

Angelisa's respect for Sharlene goes up a notch at her appearing to remain calm in a potentially dangerous situation.

"Nobody else."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

George leans forward to put himself between Sharlene and the young man and just as loudly says, "The lady said 'no'. What part of 'no,' don't you understand?"

"Shut up old man, nobody tells Hektor 'no'." He roughly shoves George back such that he hits his head on the wall and is momentarily dazed.

"George! Let me look at your head."

"What's the old man got that I haven't got?"

Sharlene answers, "Manners, for one thing."

Although her heart is still pounding in fear for George and Sharlene, Angelisa appreciates the chuckles from some of the customers, then fears for them when Hektor glares around at them with annoyance.

Sharlene asks, "Are you okay, George?"

"I think I'll survive."

Hektor looks back at Sharlene with a leering grin and says, "Manners are for sissies. What you need is a man to set you straight and make you feel like a woman."

Sharlene asks, "So, you consider yourself a man?"

"The best."

"Then I'll stick with the sissies."

"Why you . . ."

Since she's surprised Hektor stopped speaking, Angelisa tries to look over the half wall which separates the tables to see what's happening.

As he jams his .45 handgun into Hektor's lower abdomen, George tells him, "Another move from you, punk, and I'll blow your ass away. I'd do it right now except I don't want to contaminate this place with a piece of shit like you." George jams the handgun in harder, "Back up!"

Since she's shocked at hearing such vehement anger from gentle Mr. G, Angelisa can only stare as Hektor steps back with spread arms and wide eyes. Her own eyes go wider at seeing the large handgun Mr. G is pressing into Hektor's pants.

George stands up and keeps the pressure on while he suggests, "Don't try anything. Even if you hit me, my finger will still pull the trigger and you'll have a hole big enough to drive a garbage truck through."

Someone in the restaurant says, "I'm calling the cops."

Another voice answers, "Don't bother, we're already here." A couple of uniformed police officers stand up from a table and one of them says, "So, Hektor, you finally found somebody you couldn't bully, eh?"

"Hey, copper, stop him, he's got a gun on me."

"Yeah, we noticed, and he would be perfectly within his legal rights if he pulled the trigger right now. The law is real clear about self-defense as well as the defense of a companion. But just to make sure there's no misunderstanding," the police officer turns to Sharlene, asks, "is this gentleman," and points to George, "your freely chosen companion?"

"Yes, Officer, he is."

"And being his companion, do you accept his protection of you?"

"Yes, Officer."

"There you go Hektor, you have no rights in this situation." The police officer says to his younger partner, "Joe, start writing. Hektor, you're charged with harassment and verbal assault of this young woman, we'll get all of the identity details later, you're also charged with assault and battery on this elderly gentleman."

Sharlene speaks up, "Officer, may I ask the accused a question?"

"Sure."

"Hektor, if I wasn't going to go with you, what did you intend to do?"

"Take you."

"I already told you 'no', so for you to 'take me' would have been rape on your part."

"So, I've done it before."

The senior police officer says, "Joe, write it down, he's confessed to rape."

"What's the big deal, copper, that's what all women want."

"George, let the police deal with him." Sharlene urges him to back up, which he slowly does, even as he keeps his handgun trained on Hektor's body. When they're a few steps away, Sharlene takes a partial step forward and says, "Hektor, if that's what you think a woman wants, then you don't know anything about women. Go home, little boy, and grow up." Sharlene turns to her left so her back is facing Hektor.

Because he feels like his power over the local people and his gang, who stayed in the background at his order, has been greatly eroded by this old man and little girl who stood up to him, Hektor decides to show them who's in control. While she knows that can't be the end of it, Angelisa stares in horror as Hector pulls his knife out of his back packet, but before she can yell out a warning, he flicks the knife open, and with a firm underhand grip he lunges for Sharlene's unprotected back.

Sharlene hears the distinctive 'snick' of a switchblade being opened, turns her head to the right, sees Hektor's beginning movement, takes a step forward with her left foot and pivots to her right while she sweeps her right leg up in an arc. When her foot connects with the back of Hektor's wrist, the movement of his arm changes into an arc and the knife which is still firmly gripped in his hand plunges into his chest up to the hilt and pierces his heart. As he looks down at his own chest in surprise, Hektor tries to feebly pull the knife out, but only succeeds in pushing the hilt to the side which causes the sharp blade to cut more of his heart.

When she turns to look at Hektor, Angelisa grabs the edge of a table in shock at seeing the knife hilt protruding from Hektor's chest while he slowly crumbles to the floor. Everyone stares in stunned silence until Sharlene turns and throws herself into George's arms and sobs.

Before pandemonium can fully erupt, the senior police officer yells for everyone to quiet down. When he gets their attention, he makes it clear they're all witnesses and that nobody leaves until they can be interviewed and have their statements taken. He tells Joe to secure the doors while he calls headquarters for backup and the coroner to deal with, he briefly thinks before he calls it, a suicide.

As the senior officer makes the call, George puts his handgun away and takes Sharlene back to the table and holds her tightly as she sits on his upper legs. When she settles down a little and feels the duty as a doctor to check on Hektor, George refuses to release her and points that there's nothing she can do for him. As he questions her about the probable medical situation, Sharlene admits that even if all of the latest equipment was right next door, there is little that could be done.

The police officers first ask for anyone who might have recorded the event either with audio or video and has them transfer a copy of the recording to the police recorder, as well as makes a copy of what the security cameras both inside and outside of the restaurant recorded. After they start with those who were furthest from the scene, the police officers record their statements and their identities, for further statements if necessary, and allow them to leave. In a few minutes, a couple of other officers arrive and help with taking statements and then the coroner arrives and removes the body.

Early in the process of taking statements it becomes clear that Hektor had been extorting many of the local people by 'requesting' protection payments or threatening their families, homes, or businesses. Enough 'examples' had been made of people that few had been willing to resist his 'requests'.

* * * * *

2147-08-36 (e3)

For the next hour or so, Angelisa somehow operates on automatic while her mind is in a fog of disbelief while she gets drinks for customers as the police take statements including her own. It's some time later and after the two witnessing officers give their statements that they get to George and Sharlene to take their statements. When they want to separate George and Sharlene to take individual statements, Sharlene refuses until Angelisa volunteers to sit with Sharlene and hold her hand for comfort. The pain of her hand feeling almost crushed by Sharlene's tight grip pulls Angelisa most of the way out of her fog.

When the police give Sharlene a couple of more minutes to compose herself, they're surprised at how Sharlene seems to be able to turn off her emotions and gives a very detailed and almost word for word recitation of everything which had occurred, but they don't notice how white Sharlene's knuckles are as they grip Angelisa's hands or how frequently Angelisa is gritting her teeth.

As soon as she's allowed, Sharlene scrambles back to sit on George's upper legs and into his tight hug then she very gently takes Angelisa's hands and tells her, "Thank you so much for sitting with me and holding my hands. I'm sorry I held them so tight and I hope I didn't hurt them."

"I . . . I'm glad I could help." Since she doesn't know what else to say, especially since her emotions are going in at least six different directions at once, Angelisa leaves it at that.

After everyone else has left, the officers make it clear that neither Sharlene nor George are to be charged with anything and have not violated any laws. They also point out that at some time in the future they might be asked to court in order to finalize the case or possibly be asked to expand on their statements. When Sharlene asks about victim compensation for those whom Hektor has raped or extorted, the officers admit they don't know what Hektor's financial condition is or anything about his family. They also guess that most of the victim's won't step forward either due to fear of retribution, fear of embarrassment, fear of the law, or their inability to afford a lawyer.

When she hears that, Sharlene takes out her phone and makes some notes. She also requests verification that all of the statements and recordings will be made available to an accredited lawyer who requests the information on behalf of the victims without having to resort to a subpoena. The police have to say that depends on which judge is assigned to the case, but the senior officer can only recall a handful of cases where a subpoena was required and those were more complicated than this case appears to be.

Angelisa doesn't understand how Sharlene can seem so calm now, but a moment later she realizes what makes the difference is that she's sitting on George's upper legs with his arms around her. The memory pops into her mind of how much a difference it made when she was cuddled on Papa's upper legs while she was snugly wrapped in his arms. Angelisa wonders if that's a part of their relationship then realizes their relationship is much more than that considering the looks they were sharing earlier.

When the police leave, Maria closes the restaurant for the evening and her family gathers around the table with Sharlene and George. George tries to apologize for the trouble, but Maria points out they didn't start anything, while at the same time she is sure glad they were able to finish it because Hektor has been a problem. She makes her own apology in what she considers the awkward standard language, "I sorry scum like that I let in."

George responds, "Maria, if you had tried to stop him, he would have just hurt you and still done what he intended to do."

"Right you probably are."

The silence stretches as each person reviews the event in their memory or tries to think of something better to think about.

A little later, Sharlene requests, "George, take me home."

"Of course, love."

After they make restroom trips during which time Angelisa and Maria add to the leftovers they're taking, George and Sharlene willingly share hugs. Angelisa has to struggle to release George as she feels like she never wants his arms to release her then she's surprised at how genuine she feels in hugging Sharlene.

They step out of the restaurant and George takes the vehicle keys Sharlene hands him before they get in the vehicle where she tells him, "George, if you don't mind, I think I need a long drive to help me calm down. Can you drive us to my place? I'm afraid that once I calm down enough to go to sleep, I won't want to get out of bed for a long time."

"Sure, love."

Once he's out on the road, Sharlene leans her seat back, and since he recognizes this as a special situation, George drives with one hand while he uses his other hand to hold her hand.

After George and Sharlene leave, Angelisa is able to hug Mama for only a few moments before Maria reminds them that they have a restaurant to clean up before they can go to bed. Even though she feels exhausted after the stress of the evening then having to clean up afterwards, Angelisa tries to recapture the feeling of George's hug before she falls asleep.

* * * * *

More than two hours later, since he had driven slower than usual, they enter the outskirts of the city and George exits the highway, pulls over, and stops the vehicle.

Sharlene sits up, looks around, and asks, "What's the matter, George?"

"I . . . I can't drive anymore."

As she looks at him closer, she sees that his left arm is almost rigid and he has a very tight grip on the steering wheel. A moment later, she decides and says, "Okay, I can drive the rest of the way." She gets out of the vehicle, comes around to his side, and gently caresses his hand while she speaks softly for awhile before he relaxes enough to release the steering wheel. When he gets out of the vehicle, they hug for a long time before they get back in the vehicle and she drives the rest of the way. After they arrive at her place, they quickly unload the vehicle, although most of it is just left in the front room.

They put the stuff from the cooler into the fridge, then they each sip a cup of tea, although he has to use a straw because his hands are shaking so badly. When their tea is finished and they've confirmed that the doors are locked, she has to unbutton his shirt for him, but he's able to manage getting the rest of his clothes off and his pajamas on, except for buttoning his pajama top which she deliberately doesn't do for him. While she's immensely grateful he had protected her and had been strong for her during and after the crisis, she also figures he's reached the point of needing to be comforted or distracted.

She guesses it would be easy to entice him to make love to her, but she would feel guilty about using the situation in that way. Briefly, she thinks about how she can compromise then slips into one of the more conservative long nightgowns she had picked out of the boxes of lingerie and is certain he'll like how it flows down her body, without being obviously revealing or provocative. She steps into the bedroom and sees him stare at her as she walks towards the bed, gets under the covers, and snuggles up to him.

When she just gently caresses his chest for awhile, he relaxes some, turns his head, kisses her forehead, and tells her, "Beautiful lady, that nightgown looks real good on you."

"Thank you, George. I'm glad you like it."

When he realizes that her caressing hand is drifting lower, he says, "Sharlene, please."

She pulls her hand back up, lifts herself up a little, turns his head, gently kisses his lips, pauses, then asks, "Is that 'please yes' or 'please no'?"

He hesitates for a little while before he admits, "Both."

"I'm not going to ask you to make love to me because I think you would easily give in to my request and then we would both feel guilty. But I do intend to touch you and give you pleasure." She lays one of her fingers over his lips to stop his protest and tells him, "George, you need to relax. If you stay as tense as you've been for the last hour or more, you're going to increase your risk of a stroke and I have no intention of losing you. And touching you is the best way I know of to help you relax, calm down, and, at least temporarily, forget. Please don't argue with me on this. Just lay back and enjoy my touching. I would enjoy it if you would caress my back while I touch you."

She kisses him longer this time, scoots her body down the bed a few inches to lay her head on his shoulder, snuggles up close, and begins to gently caress the bare skin of his chest. As her caresses slowly drift down his body while his left arm caresses her back, she feels him begin to relax. When her caresses reach the waistband of his pajama bottom, she pauses in her caresses to undo the snaps which hold his pajama bottom closed then she starts to caress him lower which encourages his left hand to caresses lower down her back and barely brushes across the top of her buttocks.

Even while she's concentrating on giving him pleasure, she barely resists the temptation to slide her body up his a little ways so his hand would be able to caress lower down her body. Soon, she hears his breathing quicken as she finds that his penis appears to have risen to greet her hand. With only a few gentle strokes, she feels him tense up, his penis pulses, and, a moment later, the tension drains out of him as he seems to melt into the bed and is almost immediately asleep.

After a moment or two, she grabs a couple of tissues to contain his release, then gets a wet washcloth and towel to wash him up and dry him. Soon, she's back in bed and cuddles up to him. A couple of minutes later, she decides she needs, or maybe only wants, to be closer to him. She pulls herself up onto his body at a partial angle, slips her left leg between his legs and lays the left side of her head on his pillow to nuzzle his right ear. When his arms wrap around her even as he remains asleep, she isn't surprised and quickly returns the hug as much as she can before she falls asleep.

* * * * *

2147-09-01 (m>a1)

As he wades up through the morass of sleepiness because of an urgent call, George wakes up to find her wonderfully sprawled across him. Even while he wants to stay there and enjoy her presence, the urgent call becomes insistent and regretfully has nothing to do with her. Carefully, he rolls to his left to gently dislodge her, but as the distance between them increases, Sharlene grips him tighter.

Gently, he pulls her arms away from him as he whispers, "Bathroom," and she reluctantly releases him. As his presence moves away from her, she becomes more awake and realizes that her bladder is making its presence known as well. She gets out of bed, meets him as he comes out of the bathroom door, and gives him a quick kiss before she disappears into the bathroom to take care of her own needs.

Although she would usually get up soon, she's feeling more tired than normal and follows him back to bed. When she sees him hold up the covers for her in invitation, with a thrill of pleasure she goes to his side of the bed and lays on top of him as he covers her with the blankets and wraps her in his arms. She thoroughly kisses him and slides her legs to the outsides of his legs to brace herself. When she lets him breathe, she drops her head to his pillow and nuzzles his left ear. Before anything more interesting can develop, they both fall asleep.

* * * * *

When she wakes up some time later, Sharlene carefully slips out of George's embrace and out of bed. After she covers him back up, she fondly gazes down at him for awhile before she decides to do some tai-chi. As she walks down the hall and begins her tai-chi, she enjoys the movement of the nightgown on her skin. It's not as overwhelmingly pleasurable as it was the first time she wore a nightgown like this, probably because she's still near the peak of her hormonal cycle, but it gives her a warm glow of pleasure, especially since she remembers how nice it felt to have his hands sliding across her back last night. Even though he's only a few steps away, she aches to be close to him and in his arms.

Since she assumes that her feelings are an after effect of yesterday evening's 'event' and will dissipate over time, she finishes her tai-chi, gets a shower, and once she's dressed in a shirt and below the knee length full skirt, she selfishly wakes him up in order to have him brush her hair. He's happy to brush her hair and combined with being somewhat sleepy, it keeps his desire muted as she sits on his legs while he combs, brushes, and braids her hair in the soft braid he's done before. After he's done with her hair, she gets up, turns around, gives him a thorough kiss, suggests that he get ready to eat, and leaves the room.

He gets up, gets his teeth in, and decides he can wait with getting a bath until after they eat, so he throws on his clothes from yesterday since they'll hide the physical evidence of his desire for her better than his pajamas will. He goes to the kitchen, helps her by setting the table, and she soon has a breakfast style lunch set before him. When she sits down, he scoots his chair as close as possible and as he struggles to eat with his left hand, he firmly holds her left hand with his right hand through the meal.

When they're done eating, she squeezes his hand with her own and caresses the back of his hand with her right hand and asks, "I like you touching me, but is something bothering you?"

He hesitates before he admits, "I want to touch you almost all of the time, but after yesterday, it seems like the urge is even stronger."

"I know what you mean. It was very hard to leave you in bed this morning. I think it's a reaction to the stress and shock. We probably feel the need to reaffirm ourselves and our relationship. I think the urgency will back off as we come to terms with what happened. In the meantime, we enjoy the touching and try to control the urgency, so we don't spoil the journey."

"Sharlene, thank you for not asking for more last night, because I wouldn't have resisted."

"That's what I guessed. It was very hard for me to not ask for more. Somehow, since I knew you wouldn't have resisted such a request, that made it just a little easier for me to control my own desire."

"I also want to thank you for distracting me and helping me to relax last night. I had no intention of making you feel like you had to give me pleasure when I wasn't giving any pleasure to you."

"I was glad to be there for you and help you when you needed it. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you for standing up to that bully and protecting me. And then holding me for so long afterwards and driving most of the way here so I had time to calm down. My 'effort' to give you pleasure in order to help you to relax seems so little compared to what you did for me."

Sharlene covers his mouth with her hand and tells him, "No, George, I won't listen to your protest. You stayed calm and strong during the crisis and for a long time afterwards. It was my privilege to help you through the after effects of the crisis. Enough about last night, we're here, we're safe, and most important, we're with each other. I should clean up after our meal, we should do something with our pile of stuff by the front door, and then we need to think about what kind of dinner to fix for Klara."

"Re-warmed burritos?"

"Those were so good, but I don't think we have enough for the three of us. Besides I more or less promised Klara a home cooked meal."

"I was just trying to make it easier on you."

"I know, and I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"After we clean up here and move the stuff from the front door, I should get a bath, if that's okay with you."

"Of course it's okay. Are you going to need some help? You had trouble with your shirt buttons last night, but it looks like you did okay this morning." She barely touches his shirt and it slides partially open. "So you didn't do okay this morning or are you trying to entice me to touch you more?" which she starts to do.

"No, I wasn't trying to entice you. My fingers couldn't seem to manage something as small as buttons. Maybe you'd better stop touching me before what little control I have left is overwhelmed by my desire to touch you."

Sharlene gives him an exaggerated pout and asks, "You don't like me touching you?"

"My lady, I like it very much, but I don't know how long I'll be able to resist touching you in response."

"Humm, you may have a point there, lover boy," as she closes his shirt and pats it. After she gives him a thorough kiss, she leaves him breathless while she gets up and starts to clear the table. As she comes back to the table for the last items, she steps up close to the table right next to him.

A moment later, he touches the back of her left calf with the back of his right index finger and slowly slides it up the back of her leg. She braces herself on the table, and proclaims, "Oh, yess!" as his finger reaches the middle of her thigh under her skirt and starts back down. When his hand arrives at her knee, he uses the inside of his finger and moves it about an inch closer to the inside of her leg and slides it up to about the middle of her thigh, as she almost moans in response, "Yesss!" and then back down.

Next, he uses his hand instead of just a finger and slowly caresses the back of her right leg up and down from her knee to the middle of her thigh while each up and down cycle moves a little closer to the inside of her leg. Then he moves his hand to her left leg to give it the same treatment. By the time his hand is fully along the inside of her leg and slowly slides up to the middle of her thigh, she groans in response and bends her knees and lowers her hips to be closer to his hand even as his hand slowly caresses back down to her knee.

After a brief pause, he moves his hand from the back of her left leg behind her knee across the inside of her leg to the front of her leg, slides it up just a little, then moves his hand from the front of her leg across the inside to the back of her leg. His hand slowly climbs her leg, going from the back of her leg across the inside to the front of her leg and returns to the back, all the way up to the middle of her thigh. In response, her breathing becomes heavier, her groans louder, the pleasure more intense, until, with one arm braced on the table, she slips her other hand under the waistband of her skirt, just touches herself through her panty, and cries out with her climax.

While he does his best to ignore his own growing desire, he continues to caress her back and forth as his hand moves down the inside of her left leg. When he reaches her knee, he scoots his chair back a little and turns so his left hand can cup her right leg. Then he slowly moves his hand back and forth while his hand climbs her leg up to the middle of the inside of her thigh, her pleasure builds, and as she touches herself again, his silent cry is echoed by her vocal one. After a pause, his hand slowly climbs down her right leg. When his hand reaches her knee, he scoots the chair a little further over so he's almost directly behind her.

He turns both of his hands upside down in order to cup the inside of her left leg with his left hand and the inside of her right leg with his right hand and as he moves his hands in opposite directions back and forth, he slowly climbs the insides of her legs. The somewhat awkward position of his hands exerts more outward pressure, which she responds to by spreading her legs further. Even before his caressing hands arrive at the middle of her thighs, she cries out again.

As he feels her body start to go limp, his left hand pulls out to reach for her hip then her waist, while his right arm moves forward to catch her and pull her away before she falls on the table. Inadvertently, he cups her pubic area on the inside of his right elbow and traps her hand between his right forearm and her panty. Since he's concerned that he won't be able to lift her all of the way back up, he eases her body to the floor as waves of pleasure surge through her. When she's safely on the floor, he removes his arm from between her legs, as much as possible without touching her more, and gently pulls her hand out from under the waistband of her skirt.

While her voice is just barely above a whisper, she proclaims, "Oh George, . . . that was . . . wonderful."

"Rest, my lady."

"Is headband . . . still on?"

"It looks like it's still in place."

"Good. . . . Want . . . to share . . . that one."

"Quiet, my love. Rest."

"Okay," and she falls asleep.

After a brief pause, he gets up and goes to the bedroom to get a pillow and places it under her head and lays a blanket over her. Since he knows he needs to stay close, but isn't sure what else he can do, he finishes clearing the table and puts the dirty dishes in the sink and runs water over them to soak. He briefly thinks about the situation then with the assumption that he might need to kneel in order to help her get up when she wakes up, he gets an extra towel and folds it into a pad.

* * * * *

About a half hour later, she starts to stir and asks, "George?"

He quickly kneels on the folded up towel next to her and responds, "Yes, Sharlene?"

"What am I doing on the floor?"

"You got overexcited."

"I did? I did, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Oh, George, that was so incredibly wonderful. And you were only touching my legs."

"I think you were touching your pubic area."

"Oh? I think I was."

"You probably ought to lay down and rest for awhile longer, at least somewhere other than the floor."

"You're probably right. Brace yourself and I'll use you for support. Oh . . ." he quickly grabs her as she starts to topple. In a moment, she steadies herself then says, "That took more out of me than I would have imagined."

"Can you make it to the chair?"

"Made it. Wow! Is it always like this?"

"Uh, no. Here, drink," he hands her a glass of orange juice.

* * * * *

2147-09-01 (a2)

Sharlene takes some slow sips then says, "Thank you. . . . So my reaction was unusual?"

"You could say that, at least as far as I'm aware."

With a hint of bitterness in her voice, she mutters, "Different again."

George tries to assure her, "Sharlene, part of your response may be a reaction to last night. Even beyond that, I think that much of what you experience will be different. As we've discussed before, you don't have a bunch of negative emotional baggage to clutter up your experience. You experience intimate pleasure as it should be experienced by every woman, at least that's what I think.

"If you experience it so purely, and the recording equipment works, you're in a unique position to help other women more fully enjoy intimate pleasure. Please don't look on yourself being different as a burden or something which separates you from others. It's a gift. As you experience intimate pleasure more fully and cleanly, you can share the results of your gift with other people."

"Do you think so?"

"Young lady, if I didn't think so I wouldn't say it."

She hands him the empty glass and tells him, "Thank you, George. I think maybe I'll go lay down for awhile. Will you walk with me down the hall?"

"Of course. Besides, I really need a bath now."

"You got excited?"

He nods his head then says, "Sitting next to a beautiful sensuous young woman who is enjoying intimate pleasure, I couldn't have avoided getting excited."

"And you had a sexual release?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad. I don't want our relationship to be one-sided. Will there be a time for us to please each other together?"

"Don't worry about that, the time will come. Here, Sharlene, lay down and rest and I'll go get my bath."

"Kiss me."

"Briefly," which he does, "because neither of us needs to get excited all over again this soon."

"Thank you."

While he soaks in the bathtub, he marvels at her reaction to his touching and how she became so excited she collapsed. He's overheard other men claim they had highly excited the woman they were with, but how much of that was truth and how much was brag, there's no way to tell. Is she maybe hypersensitive or is it because she's essentially a sexually innocent virgin. Again, there's no way to know.

He knows it isn't his touching, because he's occasionally touched another woman in a similar manner and never had one become so excited. But then, he's never been with a woman who was willing to touch herself in his presence or they had never gotten that far in their relationship to find out. And a reaction to last night is also a very possible factor.

He certainly doesn't want to push her to where she collapses and hurts herself, but if he obviously slows the journey down, she might take matters into her own hands and push it even faster and she's come close to falling down more than once. Maybe the solution is that since she did collapse, he can make it clear he doesn't want it to happen again with the possibility that she could hurt herself, so he'll need to touch her in the same or a similar way until it doesn't overwhelm her. After all, he wants her to enjoy it, not be overwhelmed by it.

When he's finished with his bath, he puts clean clothes on, steps out of the bathroom, and puts his dirty clothes with his luggage. He stands up, looks towards the bed, and sees her laying on her side looking at him. When she sees him see her, Sharlene smiles in invitation and wiggles her index finger in a clear 'come here' gesture.

As he steps close to the bed, she scoots back a little and pats the bed in front of her to encourage him to sit down. He's barely sitting down before she supports herself on her left elbow, reaches up her right hand, and pulls his head down to hers. He leans towards her, puts his left hand down to support himself, and reaches under her with his right arm to hug her as she begins to thoroughly kiss him. When she lets him breathe, she lays back down and he sits up a little to reduce the stress on his back.

As her breathing settles, she asks, "So, lover, where did you ever learn to touch like that?"

"Mostly from my imagination with a few ideas either from a woman directly asking me to touch them, or trying to recognize when she's enjoying a type of touching and then repeating it or revising it slightly."

"Have you touched other women similar to how you touched me?"

"One or maybe two."

"Please, George, no false modesty and I'm not jealous. You touched them before you even knew me. Besides, I can enjoy the results of your imagination or your experimentation with others as you perfected your techniques to please me."

Since he's quite surprised by that response, he pauses before he says, "Well, I've never heard of a previous relationship described in that manner."

"If I gain more pleasure when you touch me as a result of your experiences, I'm not going to complain about where you gained your experience."

"As long as I don't carry unwelcome guests with me which could infect you. I think I'm clean, but we might want to be sure before we go any further."

She assures him, "You're clean. When you were in the medical center, I had all of the tests run on you. I wasn't sure then how far I wanted the relationship to go, so I figured I would rather know whether there might be a potential problem before it did become a problem. The only thing I couldn't test you for was your reproductive viability, not that it matters."

"I'm not sure what that means, but I'm guessing it might have something to do with a sperm count."

"I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget you don't have medical training. Yes, 'sperm count' would probably be a good layman's term."

"Well, I did have a vasectomy several years ago, but I never went back to be tested afterwards to see how effective the surgery was."

"I can imagine that might have been somewhat difficult for you. Back to my earlier question, have you touched other women similar to how you touched me?"

"One or maybe two."

"So that was an honest answer."

"Yes. To be blunt, my very few relationships with other women have either not gone as far as we've gone, or went rather directly to bed with little touching or enjoyment in between."

"Do you have a preference as to which path you want to take to get to the point of making love?"

"Yes. I much prefer the path you and I are taking. I'll be honest, I'm anxious to take your clothes off and stare at you for a long time before I make love to you, but there's so much touching and enjoyment to be done before we get there. I would much prefer to enjoy the journey, take the time to go the scenic route, and with you it's very scenic, instead of just zipping down the highway and always wondering what I missed along the way."

"I'm glad you had those experiences and are using your imagination, because then you know the best way to take me on the journey. And I've certainly enjoyed it. What I've really been trying to find out in a very roundabout way, is my response more extreme than the other women you've touched in a similar manner?"

"If by extreme, you mean more excited, then the answer is 'yes'. But before you worry about being different, there are several things to remember. Number one, it could be an after effect reaction to last night. Number two, as I said before, you don't have the negative emotional baggage to interfere with your enjoyment which many other women carry with them and that can make a big difference. Number three, from what you've said, you haven't been touched before like I'm touching you, so as long as you find it enjoyable, it's all fresh and new and wonderful. Number four, I've never before had the opportunity to touch a woman in your situation, so I really have no basis for comparison. Number five, the few other women who I have touched were all experienced and were much less likely to respond in such an excited manner."

"You mean as you touch me in a similar manner many times, it will become less exciting?"

"Yes."

"I find that somewhat hard to believe."

"Just think about your martial arts training. When you learn a new move, it's fun and exciting and you're somewhat surprised your body can move in just the right way to accomplish a particular punch with strength and grace. Yet as you continue to practice that move, it becomes an extension of yourself to where you can do it without a thought and without any particular enjoyment."

"You're right again. I never would have equated sexual activities with martial arts."

"It's not a matter of comparing the two, but the realization that anything which is done many times becomes routine, some things just take longer," as he softly walks some of his fingers up her arm.

She uses his supporting arm to pull herself up to face him and kiss him. When she has to release him in order to let him breathe, she shakes her head and announces, "Nope, not routine yet." He bends his head down and begins to kiss her neck as she responds, "Mmm," with her pleasure. After a little while, he takes a deep breath, places his lips firmly on her neck and blows, hard. She gives a jump and a squawk of surprise as the sound of passed gas after a meal of beans and onions reverberates through the room. She pokes him and exclaims, "Why, you!"

He just laughs and she can do nothing but join in. When the laughter is mostly diminished, she hears his quiet voice, "Got you."

"Oh, yeah," she kisses him breathless, "Got you."

"Sure . . . did. . . . What . . . do . . . with . . . me?"

"Why, keep you, of course. You're so full of wonderful surprises," and she begins to kiss his face while she lets him catch his breath.

When he's finally able to breathe almost normally, he says, "My jewel, you sure make life worth living."

"You don't do half bad yourself, old man. I can't remember ever having so much fun and for such a long time. I'm tempted to start the next round, but I really don't want to face Klara when she finds out we left her standing on the porch while we were in here having fun."

"Yeah, you don't want your lawyer upset with you or us. I suppose if she took the time to think about the absurdity of a boring old man and a proper young doctor getting it on like a couple of horny teenagers, maybe she would have a good laugh. But I don't know her, so I can't guess at what her reaction might be."

"Depending on her mood, she could be either scandalized or humored, most likely the latter. Well, come on, old man, up you go. We both need something to eat and drink. I don't want either of us fainting when Klara gets here."

"Your wish is my command, my lady."

"George, I suggest you not say that again in the near future or I might push you to see how much you mean it."

"Oops. I shall do my best to refrain from exaggerated statements of gallantry."

"That's better, sir knight." She stops just before they enter the kitchen, turns to him, and says "For all of the assumptions and societal insinuations that sexual activity should be reserved for nighttime and in bed, we've been having a lot of fun at other times and in other places."

He grins and says, "Welcome to the world of being different."

She answers with her own grin, "Maybe being different isn't so bad after all."

"You said it," as he wraps his arms around her for a tight hug and kisses her as long as his breath lasts.

About the writer:

After decades of doing office work from which he escaped to read books and occasionally write something in the evenings or on the weekends, this writer was finally able to retire and move back to the dry heat land of saguaros, Gila monsters, and bark scorpions (while they can be a low maintenance pet, they are not amenable to leash training).

If you liked this story, please tell your friends about it and leave a review. You can also contact this writer at geoff_schultz_01@yahoo.com.

