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This time, she put her hand on my stomach and moved her fingers slowly, as if to console my belly after some unknown fear. Radiating like lightning from a summer sky, fiery nerves flashed from beneath her hand to my hips, to places I never felt when around her before. The wetness. Oh my, the wetness. I excused myself again. I was extremely aroused and I wondered if she even knew why I had been going to the restroom so much. She never said a word the entire time. Still, I had become addicted to her touch, so I returned to the couch. This time I found out whether or not she was being friendly or something more. She began to untie the drawstring on my sweatpants. I quickly put my hand on top of hers. Without a word, there was an understanding. I was afraid. This was unexpected and new, though obviously not unwelcome. My hand still atop hers, she slowly moved her hand downward. I let my hand slide off of her hand. She rested her hand on my pubic bone on top of my pants. Then she moved. He must know I appreciate him, I thought."Would you like to see the park?" I asked Sonya when we were back outside. She looked to Ned for guidance."He wants to show you his handiwork," Ned told her, giving her permission to go with me. I wondered how Penelope would receive the news that her daughter was taking a walk with Sammy Oldham, the rogue ward of Mr. Oldham.I pointed out the storage shed where the lawn maintenance equipment was housed; the flowerbeds, the brick walks, the benches, and only mentioning in passing that the cottages were used when we had visitors. Sonya withheld her remarks until we reached the tennis courts. "Do you play?" She asked."Yes, I play some. Do you?"An excitement came to her eyes that I had not seen before. "My dad and I play almost every weekend but not on courts like this. The place we go is like the blacktop they use to make streets." Those two are clay and the other two are grass courts, like the professionals play on. The grass needs a lot of.
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