Mrs. Williams. She could hear his voice saying her name—a voice well past puberty, and rather deep for a boy his age, but still not a man’s voic.... He’s just a boy! Yeah, a really big, strong boy. Mrs. Williams, you don’t have to pay me. No, I insist. Do you like them, Brandon? Do you like my breasts? Yes, he says. Do you want to touch them? she asks. Yes. Then, why don’t you? Andrea now took—for her—a daring step. Leaving her left hand on a breast, she tentatively sent her right. At ten past four that afternoon her husband Phil arrived home from work. He was in a hurry as he changed his cloths and was packing some gear. "Wendy, I forgot to tell you but our baseball team is playing a weekend tournament in Towson and I won't be home till Sunday evening. Normally this kind of event would boil Wendy's blood. Not this time! No way! She had to force effort in hiding her smile. She had to quench the thrill she was sensing that she had the weekend free. Her mind. More

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