She moved into his arms and hugged him, and he held her close. “We only have a few hours,” she whispered. “and we won’t be together again for a while. I want to give you something to remember. A special treat.”

“Like I was going to forget?” he asked.

She smiled. “Just making sure. C’mon, let’s snuggle for a while.” She led him to the bed, where they lay down together.

His robe was pulled around him, but she slipped a hand beneath it and around to his bare back. He held her close, and they kissed, but gently, quietly. She stroked his back.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she murmured.

He started to say something about missing her for twenty-seven years, but thought better of it. “Me too,” was all he said.

They kissed for a while, a little more passionately. He stroked her back through the sweatshirt, then cupped her breast. It was so soft and heavy, without her bra….

She made a tiny sound of protest, then took his hand in hers and lifted it from her breast. He thought she was saying, “Not now”–

But then she slipped his hand beneath her sweatshirt and released it.

As he slid his hand upward and touched her bare breast, she made another little sound–of contentment–and snuggled closer.

He whispered, “I love you,” and held her breast in his hand. Her nipple was big under his palm, and stiffening. He kissed her.

They cuddled quietly for a long time, and he explored her warm, smooth, and achingly familiar body with his hands. At one point he moved to pull her sweatshirt off, but she stopped him with a hand and a tiny shake of her head. “That’s for later,” she breathed.

“All right.” He continued to fondle her beneath the shirt, and she lifted her chest to his hands as they cuddled and kissed deeply.

It was not the fierce, animal lust of the day before, though there was passion there. It was a deeper, warmer current of affection, a glowing ember of trust and closeness that would awaken into flame quite soon enough. There was no hurry.

She unbuttoned and unzipped her cutoffs. She made no sound, no other movement. When he slid his hand over her smooth belly and below her waist inside them, she murmured softly, “Don’t–“

“I know,” he whispered. “Just touch.” She sighed and kissed him, relaxed and quiet in his arms.

He stroked all across her lower belly, so smooth and soft, down to where her thighs began, from hip to hip. His fingers brushed the fringes of her hair. His hand moved lower, and for the first time in so very many years, he touched her there.

He cupped her tender mound, and kissed her. He stroked her there, so gently, just holding her sweet pussy in his hand, and she opened her mouth to him and moved, so subtly, lifting her hips to his touch.

He squeezed her for an instant, and then began to stroke her skin from breasts to thighs. His hand moved all over her, beneath the shirt and shorts, touching her everywhere, petting her like a kitten, and she purred with contentment.

“How do you always know exactly what I want?” she whispered.

“It’s what I want too, my heart,” he whispered back. He cupped her mound again, and there was moisture there. He knew she would be liquid, an intimate and fragrant pool of warmth inside her, but the time to touch her there was not quite yet. He stroked her secret hair and held her close.

A few moments later, he covered her–then just held her, his hands outside her clothes. “Soon,” he murmured.

“Yes. Very soon,” she breathed, and wriggled against him, warm and safe and loved.

She lay quietly in his arms. “When can we meet again?” she asked.

“That’s up to you,” he said. “I can come to you anytime.” He held her breast again, feeling the softness of it through her shirt. “School is out in a couple of weeks, and I’m off.”

Her eyes sparkled as she lifted herself to his touch. “In two weeks?”

“Mm-hmm.” He bent and kissed her breast.

“Would it be worth the drive for just a few hours?” The drive was four hours for him, one-way, to get to where she lived. She stroked the back of his head as he nuzzled her.

He raised his head and look at her face. “It would be worth it for ten minutes, Carol. What are you thinking?”

He moved to lift his hand, but she clasped it to her. “I sometimes take an afternoon off, on a weekday, and just go shopping or see a movie by myself,” she said. “Larry’s used to it. We could meet and go somewhere to be alone for just a little while. Mmmm.” she pressed his hand into her chest and closed her eyes.

“Every week?” he asked hopefully. She shook her head.

“No, that would be a change. Just once every six weeks or so.” She smiled and rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Maybe every month.”

“Name the day. I can get there on five hours’ notice. Just call me and I’m there.” He squeezed her.

“I’ll be calling.” She kissed him, then lay back and sighed. “I feel better now, love. I was afraid it would be months… What’s the matter?”

His hand had stopped moving and he was looking at her with a strange expression. “Please don’t call me that,” he said softly.