"Um, ah, Okay. I guess we could all go together. Can I help get your stuff together so we can leave?" I asked standing in front of her while she still...clutched my hand.She stood, still holding on, began buttoning her blouse with one hand then spoke to her kids in French. Whatever she said was effective. All of the ones of at least five and up began picking up everything, folding blankets, assembling diaper bags, rousing sleeping little ones, cleaning up any trash. In less than two minutes. She blushed. Her confusion caused her to drop her groceries and her bike fell on her foot, causing her pain. I helped her up."My name is Henk, Can you ride your bike home?" Yes." She limped. I took pity on her. "How far do you live?" Few blocks away," she pointed to the direction of my house."You shouldn't try to bike with your bad foot. Let me walk with you back." Thanks, Henk." We walked pushing our bikes. In the 10 minute walk I got to hear her story. Never married, lost her boyfriend to a. I feel his warmth radiate into my body and press against him some more. My right hand travels from his head and down his back, pausing on his backside to appreciatively embrace it in my palm through the thick denim. The hand continues its journey, snaking over limbs and sliding under garments. Fingertips discover the texture of skin and hair. They playfully tickle and zigzag from the curve of the back to the hair around a shy navel. They tentatively probe the top of the jeans before happily. Now I am in 10th std school boy. to mere mom aur dad ko unke kamse bahar jane ka tha, to unohne muze kaha teri mousi ko yeha bulalete hai aurPhir hum nichiant hokar ja sakte hai,dusare din meri mousi mere ghar pe aagyi aur mere parents chale gaye.main school se aya tab maine meri mousi ko dekha aur bahot kush ho gaya aur bhagkar use apni baho main leke usko kiss kiya.Tab usne muze kaha ja pahle khana kahle phir hum dono to hai mai kahi bhagi nahi ja rahi hu, issa usne kahte hi mai fresh hokar.