“I am damaged goods, alright? I was fucked up after my divorce. I’m mean, I’m judgemental, I distrustful--and--I never should have said that shi... to you.”“You’re right. That was pretty fucked up.”She winced. His acknowledgment burned.“But…” he said, looking down at the dog tag on his chest. “I shouldn’t have said that shit to you either.”The pain subsided. How could he be so forgiving?“You were right, though,” she protested.“Naw,” he said. “It was insensitive.”She smiled, her heart fluttering. Could I turn a phrase in a way that touched her being?We arranged to meet, to explore our mutual curiosity more fully.We arranged to wear matching clothes.I was wearing a white Oxford shirt and black slacks. She had a white blouse, black skirt, hose and heels.The colours matched us well.My grey hair blended with the colours. 5'9", 170 pounds, looking like a banker, although one who had a most surprising naughty side.Her red and black hair contrasted nicely with her outfit. The blouse was tight. ’ I said. ‘Not even with me? I’m disappointed in you.’ She had begun to gather bracken ferns from the side of the gully. I needed no further encouragement and began to grab armfuls of the fern myself. We soon had a bed of sorts on the floor of the cave and Kate had taken her jacket off and spread it over the fern covered floor. ‘We’ll need more than my jacket. Come on, get your gear off.’ ‘All of it?’ I was shocked that she should be so forward. In reply she had taken her shirt off and was. “I know I’ve let her down.”“No, you misunderstand me, Robert.”Reaching into her bag, Fiona drew out an envelope.“Anne gave this to me just after Gabriella was born and she asked that if anything happened to her, that I would hold onto it until such time as I thought it right to pass it on to you. I’ve watched you over the years and it seemed that you were happy to work hard and take the occasional lover to sate your needs, but otherwise had no plans to ever marry again. I suspect, however, that.