“Guy!” he said with dismay, “I hope my enchilada sauce hasn’t stained your shirt!”He scurried over to the sink, grabbed a sponge and tried t... rub the grease stain from my shirt.I got up and took his hands in both of mine. I kissed his bended fingers, reached for my jacket and put it on.He walked me to the door and told me that if I had anything I needed to talk over before the funeral next Wednesday, to give him a call. He said a notice would appear in Sunday’s church bulletin. I thanked. He finished whatever he was doing and disappeared behind me. Now, after what may have been the best piss of my young life I shuffled backwards a bit and bent way over to pull up my shorts. That’s when it happened. A strong, powerful hand held my back so I couldn’t stand up as a deep masculine voice commanded, “Leave em down.” Now I was really scared. “HUH? WHAT are you DOING?!” I exclaimed. “Relax”, came the response. Then I felt something between the smooth sweaty globes of my buttocks and. Dad would have cooked the roast beef, sliced the red onion, and sliced the Swiss cheese for the sandwiches; Mom would have made the chocolate peanut butter cups and chosen the tawny port for desert and either one might have fried the green tomatoes and mushrooms. The rye bread would have been bought from a neighbor, Tammi Milson, who was the best baker in Mendocino. Though officially retired, she made a little extra money selling home baked goods, and spent about half as much time baking as she. He had traded her favours for his own gain, even indulged in them himself the vile beast.Jocelyn promised herself; this time she would not allow Mat to call the tune on her affairs.As Jocelyn sponged foam over her shapely body, there was nothing she wanted more than a summertime fling with that Don and she sang along to the song on the radio. "Hot now, summer in the city, ... things now, looking mighty pretty..."As a guest, his presence at dinner that evening had simply raised Jocelyn's esteem.