"Ouch!"Thankfully, whoever it was quit squeezing me, but also whoever it was stood up and walked back out the door without saying anything to me eithe.... And try as I might, there was nothing about her touch, or anything else for that matter that even gave me a brief hint as to who, "or which one" I thought once again chastising myself, it had been.This time, it actually was a bit longer before I heard the footsteps, which I now lay listening for though my mind had continued to wander. Once. She wore a shimmering, silvery, silken dress, almost liquid in its motion. Her body moved to the rhythm in the most natural of ways, Her dress rippling with the wind of Her undulations. The patterns struck Her, and gleamed like jewels, still engaged in their own dance.Melanie was lost.The Woman was standing atop a platform, alone, and She was looking directly at Melanie.The music was like a voice in her head, now. Melanie, it said, you are the Dancer. You must follow the Dance.And the Patterns. The cart held no less than four sacks of potatoes, two hundredweight, and Mrs. Patterson told her that pulling it was infinitely easier than carrying a single such sack on her back. It was much cooler, too, she told the envious Elizabeth, for women pulling loads went naked, as they did on their husband's farms, apart from a fringe of leather stitched to the fronts of their wide harness belts for the sake of modesty. Elizabeth agreed, and wondered how she could entice Seth to build her a cart of. Her swollen breasts were stretching her skin just as much as her belly was. I now realized how women got those stretch marks, obviously from being stretched to the limit. Her breasts were trying to support themselves as they had tried to do for most of her life however at the moment they were content with her belly holding them up. She said that her nipples were getting very sensitive as her milk ducts formed to feed the baby as soon as she came out. It was Mother Nature at her finest. My.