She faltered, but regained her composure, chatting about the view. I turned on the charm, joining in the conversation, leaning closer, touching her arm as I speak, playing her at her own game.With my face nearly in her neck, the fingers of my right hand slowly circling her arm, working its way up to the sensitive flesh of the junction of fore and upper arm. She was puzzled, but stuck to her gameplan of trying to out-lust me. Pressing into me very suggestively, chatting away in a sweet voice. I upped the game. My right hand traced the line of her bicep, up the arm, over the shoulder, my finger following the line of the collar bone - slowly, very slowly.She went deadly quiet.Sensing she was at the point of breaking and backing off, I wanted a public victory. So I waved at the construction workers, alerting her to the fact that they were watching us with keen interest. Realising it would be a public defeat, she crossed the mental line, she came alive. Leaning backwards, into me, lifting. Plus, she needed to take charge of her sex life since she hadn’t had one for several years. Her husband Ron refused to follow doctor’s orders to control his diabetes and congestive heart failure. He was still working so she was home alone except for some part-time volunteer work. On weekends he was worn out so wasn’t much of a companion either.After church service on Sunday Donna was visiting with a nice man in his early 50s who had lost his wife less than a year ago. In a very atypical, impulsive moment she asked him if he might meet her for lunch and talk about something. Intrigued, he agreed to the next day.Waiting at the restaurant, Donna was as nervous as a kid on a first date. She stumbled getting up to greet Phillip and plopped back down. They ordered and Phillip asked, “What is the important topic you want to discuss?”Donna gulped and started, “May I have your word that this is entirely confidential?”“Yes”“I don’t know any fancy way to say this but I was wondering if you.
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