And even as I dial, I fantasized about what she might be doing. Maybe she was doing what I was doing when I thought of her. I see her sitting by t...e phone, the receiver cradled in her neck. The neck I loved to nibble. And as we talk, I can see her casually brush the hair from her forehead. She smiles when she talks. Most of the time, when she talked, I only pick up a word or two. I am much too busy trying to picture her. Her hand would drop slowly, lightly touching her breasts over. ”Lisa apologized, “Oh, I'm sorry sweetie. I won't do it any more. My apologies to you and to you, Christine.”“It's okay, Lisa and thanks. I've had enough wine anyway and this hot tub is making me sleepy. Think I'll call it a night.” We all said good night as she left the tub. She dried herself off as we all sat there watching her. I felt bad for her. I decided to have a talk with Jolene about Lisa after we went to bed. The three of us stayed until the bottle had been finished which may have. You bend down taking them to the floor and lift each of my legs to help me step out of my clothes.I am at my most fragile at this moment, and you do your best to soothe me. On your knees, you stroke my calves with your fingertips, working your way up to my upper thighs. With slight pressure, you part my legs a little. I feel a touch in between my legs. You see I am not wet. I am still holding back. Taking my hand, you lay me back on the bed with my bottom on the edge and you resume your. He was drunk.My parents met me at the hospital. The doctors there wanted me to stay overnight but I refused. All the time—hours—I wept uncontrollably. When I got home MP was there and she was crying, too. She put her arm around me and helped me to my room. MP undressed me and led me to the shower where she supported and washed me. Then she dried me, helped me into pajamas, and put me to bed. I lay there for hours crying and screaming in my grief. Eventually, sleep—merciful sleep—came to me. MP.