He whistled again. I stepped out of them. Turning away from him, I bent at the waist and picked them up. I heard a whispered, “Wow,” behind me.I s...raightened, tossed the shorts in back, and faced Jack. “You like?”“Wow! There is one problem with that outfit. I have an erection that won’t quit.”“I’ll figure out a solution.” I moved to him and took his hands, placing them on my bottom cheeks and put my arms around his neck. I kissed him slowly and thoroughly. I came up for air and whispered, “Did. Most T-shirts are, after all. But this one was...Start again, he thought. In his role as observer, he had to observe. He started at the top, forcing himself to make mental notes. Funny how all Japanese women look about twelve years old. The notes in front of him insisted she was twenty-four. Yet her silky black hair was tied up with two schoolgirlish yellow bows. A couple of strands of hair escaped from these, and she had to keep brushing them away from her eyes. It must have been most. .. and Blake... were in a relationship that she didn't fully understand, but she didn't really care. She felt like a new woman - sexually free and alive! So different than these last few lonely years since her divorce from Bill. And Blake! What exactly WERE her feelings toward him?For one thing, he wasn't AT ALL like her ex-husband. She liked Blake. She liked him a LOT. But how could she face him again? What would they say to one another? Maybe she WAS still angry with him. He had seduced. No bell, no knock, simply entering the home after his self imposed exile. Quietly, the old words came unbidden to his lips. "Mom, Dad. I'm home."The low hum of machinery came from the dining room this time. He retraced his path of that fateful day seven years before to find the dining room transformed into a sickroom. His father lay on the hospital bed, looking incredibly, impossibly frail. His mother stood by the bed and old Father John was murmuring low and... it could only be the Last.