Long ago, I had created a username for myself to match my authorial pseudonym, and so, thinking quickly, I now logged in under it. Somewhat trepidatio...sly, I sent her a message.She was more receptive than I'd hoped -- she was quite friendly and apologetic about "what had happened." I didn't pursue the subject, as I sensed her reticence, and I didn't want to seem nosy or pushy. After a bit of awkward smalltalk (about the weather -- I'd told her where I lived, a sufficiently large metropolitan. Although her breasts were nice it was her really dark areolas and very suckable half inch nipples that were the stand out feature. To bring them to everyone’s notice, she wore a peep hole bra to show them off when required.Dressed like that she made it quite plain that she was up for anything. The first night she went down to the communual lounge and it blew her mind. Thinking she was being provocative was nothing. Sitting on a chair with her legs splayed wide open was a fat old bird really. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Sunday was as normal as any other Sunday we had shared. We cooked a great breakfast together, fed and watered the horses, then headed inside to relax the day away. We curled up on the couch, each reading our latest book. We talked and laughed. We made sandwiches for lunch. Later I turned on a football game while she caught up on a mountain of home work for school. It was just like a normal Sunday, except every now and then we might walk. A twenty-four hour virus." I thought that sort of thing wouldn't affect you," Peter said, puzzled. The Chameleon was even more puzzled by the response. "Why not, Peter? I mean, it happens to everyone." I...I guess so," Peter replied, apparently still not satisfied. "So, what's up? Did you want to ask me something, or did you want to get some more pictures?" I...I just wanted to see you, that's all," the Chameleon said. He was starting to become confused - all of his surveillance had suggested.