At first, he thought a trickle of sweat was running down his nose, absently brushing his fingers over his skin before returning to weeding the flowerb...d. "It's just sweat," he thought to himself, mid-weed-tug paused. He closed his eyes to concentrate, and a sensation of the familiar feel of her fingertips brushed over his lower lip. He closed his eyes to shake the uneasy feeling of dependence, adamantly refusing to admit even the word into his consciousness.As the weather warmed up, she peeled. Would she know tricks that younger ones didn't know? Going to the kitchen, he mixed his aunt a strong drink. It was easy, with vodka, to do that without her knowing. And, when he returned he carried the newspaper, using it to hide the prominent bulge of his sweatpants."Do you have a girl, Bill? Is there someone at college that's your special friend?" Well, sort of, Aunt Bonny. But Cathy's not as nice as you." He blurted the second sentence almost without thought. And, in fact, Cathy was not as. More

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