A lifetime of denial had, in some paradoxical manner, permitted us strange behaviors... as long as they weren't validated with acknowledgment. That is... just don't talk about it.This interaction, however, was moving at warp speed. Jean usually took forever to circle up the wagons and establish her perimeter of protection more often of the barbed-wire variety. Cutting through the niceties this rapidly let me know that she felt strongly about what had happened. Usually, Jean dealt with. Like before I kinda shuffled behind her supporting her under her arms to keep her from falling or drunk staggering into the wall. She would hold onto my hands like some sort of weird parallel bars. This time however she moved my hands and covered her breasts with them. Almost like it was a natural thing for me to do and for some reason I needed help. She got in the bathroom, shut the door and I stood outside contemplating what the hell that was all about. After a few minutes she opened the door. More

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