The Gwaun Valley, Wales, Late evening, February.The old one rested her white wispy haired head in the crook of theoverstuffed chair and closed her eye.... Kerrdia's cheeks were warmedrosy by the crackling fire in the hearth and as she slowly dozed offinto a late winter's nap, her forehead and crows feet wrinkles seemedto smooth slightly with each deeper breath. With the last bit of herconsciousness that had not fallen to sleep, she recognized that thedream was on her once more, the dream of her. But this time I felt something different as I was doing it: such important emotional tenderness on our anniversary. While kneeling behind her, I planted a warm, wet kiss on each one of her buttocks causing her to shiver. All through dinner my excitement continued to mount. I found myself touching her, running my hand against her cheek, pressing my hand against her hip and lightly on her thighs. Beneath her dress I could feel the outline of the Crack Belt. The slow, sweet torture of anticipation. More

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