It was when we were in our forties that things took a different turn. We were staying at their place in Berkshire. We’d had a few drinks the night...before.I should explain, neither my wife, Claire, nor Dave are drinkers so they never had all that much, whereas Connie and I like a drop of scotch and tend to put a fair amount away.It was the Sunday morning, I was laying in bed when the door opened and Connie brought in a cup of coffee.“Your wife and my old man have gone off to the shops,” she. He would turn away when I would catch his eye; he was definitely checking me out. He tried to be subtle but he was obviously into me. He kept turning the conversation to me, asking me where I was going to college and if I had boyfriends. Mrs. Simpson seemed to be annoyed with all the attention he was paying me. Every time I called him Mr. Simpson, he would correct me that is was Paul. Mrs. Simpson’s annoyance fueled me to encourage him on. I started playing off the attention that Mr. Simpson,. Guilt for living I didn't even know I had."I reached across the space between us, and wiped his tears from his face, and then my own. "I know what you mean. Could you hold me Mike? I need to feel you holding me."He was across the couch and holding me, hugging me close before I finished, Whispering in my ear, "Shh, I have you. Nothing bad can happen now. I'm here. I won't let you go." Lots of other soothing meaningless words. He gently held my head against his chest and rocked me like a child. I. "."Are you alone?" I asked her, trying to conceal my excitement."Yes." She stated in a quiet monotone."Good. Turn on video chat!" I ordered. Gently but firmly."Okay. One second" she said.I couldn't hold in my excitement, after what seemed like an eternity her face cam turned on. You could tell she hadn't gotten ready yet. She was sitting on her bed in what looked like pajamas, her hair was a mess, but adorably so. She also had no make up on. She didn't need it. She was beautiful by herself. She.
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