We finished our drinks and I eyed her slowly and asked if I could drive her home. She smiled demurely and said ‘of course’. I touched the small of...her back as we stood, and she stepped in closer and closer as we made our way to my car, alone in the quiet parking lot. When we reached the car I stopped and looked her in the eyes while I traced the line of her jaw. I could see she wasn’t quite sure what to expect…but she was flushed, curious….aroused. Instead of opening the door, I took her hand. She might as well have thought balloons floating above her. Why should Ana feel ill? Is her daddy in here too? Her notorious impatience was no excuse–one of the traits Grams insisted they shared. Her being in a constant state of fright for hours was no excuse. Ana didn’t have to be here. She didn’t have to spend ten minutes on the phone directing Grace on the fastest way to get here. She didn’t have to go across the street to make sure Grams had a real cup of tea to drink instead of that. More

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