"T-Thanks." You're welcome. Just take your time. We don't have to go any farther if it upsets you." No. I want to tell you. I need to tell somebody...what happened to me."Doctor Smythe replied in a reassuring tone of voice that was perfected over countless therapy sessions."Go ahead. Tell me your story."Doctor Smythe settled back in his overstuffed chair, pencil in hand, to hear Bo's story.She started slowly, her soft voice interrupted only by occasional cracks, squeaks, and throat. Quickly drying herself she draped her gown over her, trying to ignore how wonderful the flimsy material felt as it fell lightly against the curves of her body.She almost ran downstairs. Thank God! Jeff had already cleaned up, bless his heart, washed up, and tidied, and the clothes from the washing machine were now dry in the tumble dryer, ready to be folded and put away. She poured herself a coffee and went into the living room and sat at the computer.She drained her cup as the computer booted. More

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