Leaving my sweater, blouse and bra upstairs, I walked topless down to the family room, where she attached the weights and started the timer. I wandere... slowly around the room, looking for some way to take my mind off the pain and the relentless pull of the weights. I couldn't focus on anything. I just kept moving and changing position to spread the load of the weights as evenly as I could. The hour passed slowly. When the timer went off, I tried to cultivate patience while I waited for Mrs.. He thought I might consider him a potential stalker. He asked if it would be all right to just go back to the way things were, ignoring the obvious for the sake of the project. In my mind I thought, ‘I don’t think so.’ I brought up the age difference. He was ready for it. If it didn’t matter to him, why should it matter to me? Of course it didn’t matter to me, except for me feeling inferior to his other possible partners who were certainly younger and prettier. Am I paranoid? Should I be. More

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