We ate dinner that night at a small restaurant nearby and then he let me relax to unwind from the long flight. “There are two girls I would like you...to meet,” he said. “Both of them are friends of mine, and each is very different from the other.” “Really?” I asked, “How so?” “They have different attitudes towards life and sex but both are very sexual. I’ve told each of them about you.” “You did?” “Yes, but each does not know the other will meet you while you are here. I just wanted to show you. She tried to turn around but he stopped her. “Shhhh,” he whispered. “Just relax.” The voice was a low whisper. It could have been anyone’s: Kevin’s, Clint Eastwood’s, someone with laryngitis. His hands kneaded her tired shoulders, gently massaged her stiffness and aches. It felt good. She wanted to turn around and see what he was up to. But his hands were soothing, calming. She had work to do….but she gave into the moment and closed her eyes. She felt the tension. More

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