She massaged it into her breasts, softly, gently lifting and cupping them. She let her thumbs stroke over the nipples. She imagined a man doing it. It...could have been Carl, her late husband, or her recent lover, Paul Crane. Then her thoughts turned to a man who had never touched them, Walter Hartley. She scooped more shampoo from her hair and let her hands rub the lather into her lower triangle of hair. She pressed firmly, but lightly, and then let her fingers slip lower. She pressed her hips. It was a lot. “But,” he said, “just come to my room and we can sit and talk. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” I walked with him now. He was harmless he said and I believed him and, after all, what could possibly happen that I wasn’t already doing with Dad and this was new and exciting…I tucked the money in my little outfit.We got on the elevator…walked down the hallway and into his room. He smelled nice and was nice to me. He opened a bottle of wine and gave me a drink…it was. More

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