“It was an awkward, stressful day, I can tell you. Both she and I were like cats, circling each other, not sure if we were to be friends or foes. We finished up in the late afternoon and everyone scattered; most of the guys had wives or girlfriends local, I was the only one whose wife had stayed in the US. So, I was the obvious choice to squire our analyst to a late tea and then the train station. It was during our meal that we began to talk. Even from the start, we were finishing each other’s sentences. We knew what bit of information the other was going to present before they even got to that point in their thoughts. I was married with children, as was she. She showed me photographs of her twins and I showed her photos of my two boys. We both loved our spouses and found nothing lacking or unhappy in our relationships. She missed her train and it was time for dinner before we knew it. We each had to do some soul searching here. I was ready to file for divorce, not because I didn’t. ‘What, the movie, or that it excites you so much?’ One of Jen’s fingernails trailed over the older woman’s thigh. ‘Don’t,’ Helen gasped, pushing away the hand, ‘I can’t… oh god… every little touch might set me off…’ ‘But orders are orders!’ Jen protested, but then looked thoughtfully at Helen. ‘Perhaps… That might work… pull up your right leg and hold it close to your body!’ Helen couldn’t see what that may change, but she did as told and wrapped her arms around her shin, pulling her leg close to her body. If there was one thing her garden work was good for, she surmised a little cynically, it was flexibility in her lower body, with all the kneeling and bending while weeding the flowerbeds. When Jen once more started to fondle her, a small yelp of protest escaped her. This time, her hand was quite a bit lower, her fingers seeking a way between her buttocks. ‘No, Jen,’ she begged, ‘please not there! That’s so dirty! Not my bum!’ ‘Lisa told me to stick my fingers in you as much as.
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