Then he was there, right in front of her, bending over. She didn't understand until his shoulder hit her in the stomach and all the air went out of he... lungs. She saw stars as she felt herself being lifted off the floor. She couldn't get another breath in to replace the one that had just whooshed out, because all her weight was on her stomach, which was compressed by his shoulder. Then the brightness of the bathoom went dark, as he took her into the dim living area, and the disorientation of. So, what do you think?”She held her breath waiting for his reaction, as he stroked her hair thoughtfully.“It’s kind of a rape fantasy, isn’t it?”She shrugged. “I guess. What do you think?”“I like it!” he declared enthusiastically. “I might not be able to get away very often, but I’ll do my best, I promise.”After a few moments, he asked her “Aren’t I the wrong man for this fantasy?”“What do you mean?”“Shouldn’t it be someone else who does it?” She laughed. “No, that would be real rape, not. I made money from my neighbors wanting my expertise in dealing with their lawns or gardens.My third year of high school saw me buying a pickup truck and a trailer to haul the equipment that I was accumulating for my lawn and garden care business. By the end of the growing season that year, I had hired three fellow classmates to do general lawn mowing and trimming with me. I was very busy.That was the year I learned that the IRS came after kids who made money. Oh, they didn't come for me that. He hadn't, he realized, as he slipped frombeneath his covers and away from the fog of thoughts created when he wasbetween sleep and wake.He was still trying to sort out the differences his senses recorded as hestood. What had he remembered before bed and what could he apply fromthose memories that would make it real instead of a dream. He had beenworking hard on his project. Perhaps too hard and perhaps he really waslosing it.He wasn't dreaming of course and were he not as groggy as he was he.