I always called her Sam. Well, it started about the beginning of the fall semester. We were working on our homework when, rather audaciously, Sam blur...ed out, "Hey, Tryn. You ever wonder what belongs down there."This mere comment made me blush. I mean, we'd learned all about what a vagina was in sex-ed in, like, fourth grade. Sam had gone through one of those "Sex is a big no-no" programs that was sponsored by the government, so all she'd been taught about down there by that point was pretty. The evening drifts into the early hours of morning, which bear witness to my fits and starts. These are the times for melancholy, when the expense of a day’s energy has worn me down, and left me only able to reflect, and lapse into nostalgia. When sunlight wakes me some hours later, I stretch out, still half-expecting to feel her sleeping form next to mine. Instead, I am greeted with a cold, empty bed. Refreshed as I am, it is in the mornings that my thoughts become colored with lust. I cast my. She held the pose for a few seconds then re-tied her top."Ok, let's go out and get wet," I laughed.Before we did, I quickly filled a flask with hot water then I locked up and started the car. For a few miles we just drove with the windows wide open catching the breeze."Let's go to the woods," she suggested.I looked across and nodded, noticing that her short skirt was up around her waist exposing her white cotton knickers. I reached across and stroked her clammy thigh. She turned to look at me. ." Inevitable" Diane interjected cheekily and was met with a scowl fromDoris. It had not been Diane's intention to be mean to her poorhousekeeper. It just suddenly dawned on her that there remained areservoir of pent up resentment left over from her failed marriage.Rather than go down that rabbit hole of examining the motives behind heractions and often rigid treatment of Doris, she simply shrugged it offand let the words flow how they may."Honestly Doris, look at it this way. This is already.