" Had breakfast yet?" she asked.It struck me: no, I had not. "Actually, I think I got so busy I just forgot," I replied a little sheepishly." I have some fresh coffee and croissants for brunch, and I could sure use some company," she said, smiling enticingly.I thought for a moment. "Okay," I replied, and crossed through the two gates separating our yards.For the first time, I was able to take stock of her in a very informal setting. Glennie and I had been in her house, briefly, when she first moved in, welcoming her to the neighborhood. She was always well-dressed, her home immaculate.This particular morning, she looked fresh-scrubbed and shiny, wearing culottes, flipflops, and a t-shirt; and unless it was so thin as to be undetectable, she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts, respectable B-cups to my eye, were firm and proud with no assistance. I tried not to stare, but I'm a breast man, and it had been a while since I'd seen a pair. Real ones, anyway.She had ducked into the house. He asked me to take a seat on his sofa before he sat down beside me. He then explained just how concerned he and the Mother Superior are about my mental well being and how he wanted to ensure that I understood that my current state is not my fault and that I shouldn't look upon it as anything other than a blessing. I replied that I was finding it hard, just at the moment, to see the situation like that and then my emotions kind of erupted. Next thing I knew, I was crying my eyes out and the kindly Father had taken me into a comforting embrace and was doing his best to calm me down by saying "There, there, dear," over and over again. It took a little while (I don't think the good Father has much experience dealing with hysterical females) but my blubbering finally began to slow down and eventually stopped. Seeking to thank him, I leaned forward and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. He smiled at me before kissing me properly back. With both my training and my emotions kicking in.
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