I reduced the volume, almost mute, not wanting to disturb her.After sometime I switched off the TV and tried to sleep. But how could I just sleep doin... nothing. She was facing me. ¬¬¬I slipped my right hand under her blanket and gently touched her tummy. Slowly and Softly I started caressing her tummy and then playing with her navel. Making sure that she was really sleepy and wasn’t sensing my movements, I was slowly moving my hand up towards her boobs. I was now touching her boob from down. I. In fact, I had frequently and sincerely referred to her as my 'better half'.Christine was a gardener; not the formal, manicured lawn, exotic flower, sort of gardener. She liked native plants and plants that encouraged wildlife. If our garden seemed a bit unkempt ... well, by some standards it was. But it was a haven for wild birds ... titmice of three sorts, finches of at least three sorts, sparrows, dunnocks, wrens, thrushes – three sorts of thrush, too – robins, nuthatch and the occasional. I just finally grew tired of crying all the time and feeling like shit.”Noelle nodded, “You nailed that feeling pretty well. I wanted to see a fertility specialist, but he said he wasn’t going to throw his hard-earned money away because my parts didn’t work right.”Charly was appalled, “He sounds like a first-class asshole. I know you loved him, but what kind of a man tosses away the woman he loves just because she can’t produce a child in the traditional manner? I hope his bitch on the side has. Diggs was his sparse internet footprint. I didn’t exactly expect him to have a Facebook page. But I had assumed that I could get the things I needed to hack him; like email accounts, or business websites. I couldn’t find any of those. So, I decided that more robust measures would be needed.I had an address for him. So, I checked it out via Google Maps. It never fails to astonish me how easy it is to look in a stranger’s window courtesy of Google’s busy little mapping trucks.Diggs lived in a.