‘You forget. I’m a lover, not a fighter.’ Charlotte laughed, but I saw the merriment die in her eyes as her smile dropped. ‘So tell me. What�...s wrong?’ Every one of us was in the home for a reason. My main reason was degenerative arthritis and an ungrateful son. ‘Uncle Arthur’, as it was called around here, was ravaging my joints like a house on fire and Charlotte had known that keeping me active would keep it at bay. So far, it had worked. But as I sat on the bed, looking at my friend, I. How easy it would be to get drunk on her arousal, on the very idea that this was her deepest, truest fantasy coming to life. How easy to be innocently swept away by lust, to not think about exactly what she was doing. But he wouldn't let her. He was forcing her to be totally present in this moment, forcing her to feel everything—the lust, but also the uncertainty and the fear and the shame, all of it swirling together to make her feel so intensely alive, making her body tremble...Her thoughts. More

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