“Go on Donald,” Emma tells him.Before he starts up again, he leans against Emma’s thigh, where he feels so comfortable now, he takes her hand in...his, and with the fingers of his other hand, Donald begins gently rubbing her inner arm from bend in elbow down to wrist and back with just the tip of two fingers. A tickling sweetness begins there in Emma’s arm, and then buzzes out – first all the way up her arm, across her shoulders, down her other arm to her fingertips even. Then as it goes on, she. “I’m here because I want you to be my mentor. I talked with Lucy, your dear wife, before she passed, and I know that the two of you were a lot more open-minded than I have been. I couldn’t really understand it at the time but I am getting the idea now, I think.”OK, I thought, maybe I know where this is going. Lucy passed away two years ago at age fifty-three. I’m sixty now and Freda has just turned fifty. Anyway, when Lucy hit the half-century mark she had a similar revelation. We were not so. More

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