If Mr. Thorn was home, maybe she would ask him to rub lotion on her back. She was sure he would do anything for her.The house looked quiet. She walked...around the pool a couple of times, hoping Mr. Thorn was in there and would see her and come out. Nobody came out. She went up to the sliding glass doors and leaned close, cupping her hands to the sides of her face to shield the sunlight. The house was empty. Pam sighed.She stepped back and noticed her reflection in the glass. She put her hands on. She did not care about all those other people in the room. If necessary she would grit her teeth together/ hold the palm of her hand tight against her lips to suppress the noise. All she wanted was that final release. But as she sat there – wondering how she could possibly communicate this need to Clay – he got to his feet/ shook her hand/ smiled and said *Its been a pleasure talking to you Severine. Maybe one day Ill tell you about the Parisian girls.* The young journalist watched –. And if you're wives are willing to accept me ... can I be your wife too?"I took her into my arms and looked down into her dark eyes, "Sweetheart, you're the one thing that isn't up for debate. I love you and you are my wife. No matter what, you are my wife. But, I have no doubts that not only will they accept you, but they'll smother you with gratitude for all that you given up to help them."She kissed me and then she said, "Come on, let's go find our family."It was about three in the afternoon. I’d love to help you with that.”“But you hate fishing Alice? So why would you want to clean the fish?” I asked.She placed her finger under my chin and lifted it up, “I don’t like sitting around doing nothing. With fishing, there is always the chance you could be sitting there doing just that for hours. My body can’t handle that. With only a few exceptions. Now, why don’t you put your top back on and go to sleep. Better yet go to sleep without a top on. It’s way too hot and humid for wearing.