Come on." "But why does she have her hand inside her buttons? Why is she rubbing her tummy?" "Shhh. Maybe she has a tummyache." "But, but ... why is s...e smiling?"-----She looked at the large dog. It held her gaze.She saw the recognition in its liquid brown eyes, felt the stir deep in the pit of her stomach, the looseness, and the sudden presence of moisture.It knew.She knew.-----"Can I call you?", your email says. I think for a few minutes, and then burn my boats. "I'm sorry. Would you be hurt. She had the free spirit that sucked middle-aged men in, despite the danger. The peasant blouse, the unadorned hands, the tight waist and slim hips. The burning desire to be youthful again.Coffee turned to a late lunch. That turned to one of those deep, meaningful conversations. The kind that you used to have late at night in college, the kind that inevitably led to one or the other saying "please, don't leave, stay the night", the kind that always led to the bedroom.She took him to her house,. More

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