He reached back into the blanket to keep his arms tight around Heather like they were for the last half hour.“Why are you so hard, daddy?” she pre...sed on.“Ignore it, bumpkin.”“You’re horny again,” she accused him.“That’s your imagination.”“All those half-naked women getting chased by the crazy guy make you horny?”“Please,” he replied.“Horny for me?” she squeaked innocently, grinding into him again.He shifted uncomfortably. “No, it’s, it’s, uh, a natural reaction to… physical stimulation…. Or perhaps, he said, they could have a nightcap later. His name was Jean and he was French. He was a big man with a nice laugh and twinkling eyes. Em hadn’t met him before and wouldn’t again. He was from the other side of the world and was in town only for the convention of which this boring dinner was part. She thought about him over the next thirty minutes or so, as she talked with others around her table. A couple of times she caught herself not paying attention and brought herself back to. "How'd you know I wore glasses? Did my mother tell on me?" In your suitcase you had a case with your glasses in it. Why aren't you wearing them?" Well... they're just reading glasses."She took a fast puff off her cigarette and exhaled quickly, leveling her eyes at me. "The lenses are too thick to be reading glasses. And you squint at everything, even when we're just walking down the street. Why don't you wear your glasses?" Oh..." I started casually. Her insistence was unsettling. I wished she. "You can unpack while I get dinner ready. I hope Lasagne is okay." Anything you want to cook is fine by me."That was how it started. When I went back to work she had a meal waiting for me when I got home. She started taking Bonnie out for walks in the mornings. At weekends she would come with us when I took Bonnie out on the fells. We weren't a couple as such but an outside observer would have got a very different idea. It was two weeks before she came to my bed on a Saturday morning. The.