As I said, I check the mail once a week ... unless the postman sets a basket by the box. He/she never has but discounting such a situation is foolish....Possible is possible ... it could happen.On this occasion ... the occasion being recycle pick up day ... I was thumbing through with one hand and depositing with the other hand all the junk mail that mailers seem to think I read.I used to slip a pound of sand into "Postage Guaranteed by Recipient" envelopes but now I recycle the paper. Those. “That’s real good mom,” I replied, in a near whisper.Linda’s hand eased down my back and began exploring further, first down my spine to the small of my back, and then beneath my arms and then stopped.I held my breath; and I sensed she also was holding her breath.Then her hands came up and gently cupped my breast.“These are nice darling.”“Mm ... but too small.”“Hush; your barely fifteen!”“I know.”“Would you like some acupressure? I did some training for it once.”With closed eyes, I nodded.“Okay. More

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