He was the epitome of Mr. Nice Guy. We became lovers and I was crazy about him. We worked together and moved in together - never tired of being togeth...r. My Mom’s sister kept telling her it was my Pop who had died, not her. She needed to get out and mix. I joined in and she eventually started getting back into society. She had been an executive secretary before marrying my Pop. She went back in the job market and ended up as a secretary in the governor’s office. And then she began mentioning. As she stretched her sinews hard and taut in her bed, she could almost feel the strength of the hand that had suddenly gripped her shoulder from behind. The cut of her panties pulled against the motion of her hips as they rolled against the mattress. The tapered edges of the gusset cupped her mound. She remembered the hand and voice and felt the tingling warmth flush through her skin. “Don’t turn around,” he’d said. The whisper had slithered into her ear like a trickle of warm cream. There’d. More

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