He sat outside smoking his pipe and watched the tendrils of smoke rise into the night sky. He sat and pondered and reflected and otherwise contemplate... his life to date. After several hours of reflection and finding no real solution, he sighed heavily, tapped out his pipe, and turned in for the night.The scene repeated itself every day for five days. Get up, sword forms, work around the cottage, chop wood, make dinner, watch the stars, and go to sleep. He had no worries, no one trying to kill. Both Heather and her companion (who was unknown to us) were fully clothed, but the young man was trying to correct the situation. He slipped his hand inside her blouse, which was already half unbuttoned; she moaned softly, but slowly, reluctantly, pulled his hand away. He slowly reached in again, undoing one more button; even more slowly, she removed his hand again. Like a stuck record, the identical motions were repeated over and over.It was not difficult to understand the young man's. More

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