I’d be asking.“Yes,” I said.“I hear it’s cold back there,” she said.“Yes, had a bit of snow on the ground actually,” I said.“Got a l...ttle time to talk?” she said. I shrugged.“I guess,” I said. “There’s coffee in the pot. I just put it on a bit ago. Help yourself.” She did so.“And Cherry?” she said, heading back into our mini-dinette.“She’s shopping,” I said. My sort-of daughter nodded.“Just wanted to drop by and congratulate you. Cherry’s clued mom and well, we were all kinda surprised,” she. She made sure he did it delicately and thoroughly and constantlytold him just how feminine shaving ones legs was. When he finished shehanded him a bottle of floral scented body moisturizer to ease any razorburns and to give them a feminine sheen.Back in his room she had him get dressed. Doris gave him a pair ofsheer nylons to roll up his legs and a pair of four inch stiletto heeledsilver sandals. A pair of violet colored velvet short shorts with backzip and bright purple satin hemming came. It wasn’t much to look at, at least not compared to quite a few others I had seen both here and in Dubai, and its appeal wasn’t helped by the green neon lights along the side of the prayer tower. Men were coming in from the square in front of the main entrance and from cars that pulled up to double and triple park. That’s fine during prayers. After all, nobody is supposed to be doing anything else, or going anywhere. I saw only men. No women and not even children. By now I’d seen quite a few. I stood over her and asked – a bit roughly – ‘Are you here to see me?’ ‘No, suh,’ she responded. ‘Ah’m waitin’ fo’ Miss Lucretia,’ she purred sweetly in that Cumberland foothill accent which, after three weeks of hearing it spoken by local women, made my groin throb. Her eyes dropped bashfully to the floor as she finished her sentence. I continued looking down at her and felt a couple of quick, horny pulses in my genitals, since she looked positively edible. ‘Oh. Well, we shouldn’t be too.