She toweled her hair dry. As she bent to wind the towel into a turban on her head, her face flushed at the memory of his strong hands blindfolding her...in this very room. It was a night she still remembered fondly. His touch had been so tender, the kiss of the rose so perfect on her skin. She wrapped a towel around her body and walked to her bedroom. The flush of her skin was as much from that memory as the warm steam in the bathroom. As she pulled open the drawer, her hand paused a moment. She dropped her skirt. “What a naughty, naughty uncle I have!” she said, shaking her head in mock disgust. “Now. Go and make me some tea.”Once again, there was a different mood. They could both sense it. More relaxed. More fun. Less tension, less guilt about what they were doing together. To each other. She felt that it was a good time to ask some questions that had been intriguing her. “Lead in gently!” she thought. “So...your new neighbours...they're OK, then?” she asked.“ Oh, yes...very. More

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