Each step was agonizingly slow and deliberate. His hair was as white as the fresh fallen snow outside. One gnarled and wrinkled old hand reached for t...e receiver. "Hello?" he said gruffly. "Dad? Can you hear me?" James asked in a loud voice. Mr. Reed was hard of hearing, but his mind was still sharp as a tack.The old man grunted in response. "Yes, son. I can hear you," he replied. "What's wrong? It isn't anything with Jamie is it?" he growled a bit impatiently. His hips ached and his knees felt. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man glancing at her. He thought she couldn't see, so he kept looking at her breasts, peeking out the top of the skimpy material. She saw him graze her body with his eyes, always returning to her breasts. She kept on pretending to read, slowly and firmly stroking her clit - barely moving her finger so as to not bring any attention to what she was doing. Her long, soft gypsy skirt rode up her bare and tanned legs. The man glanced back again and eyed her. More

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