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Then he lifted the narrow mirror from the wall, positioned it face up on the rug parallel to the bed, and guided us both to our knees so that we straddled the glass at opposite ends, facing one another.He could see, both reflected and for real, that I wore nothing beneath the suspender belt. My peripheral vision caught his turgid response, which triggered a teasing wriggle of moisture over points south.When I hesitated, he grasped himself first. I slid my palm downward, skimming the crosswalk of lace.Our fingers probed and nudged in their own sensitive cadence, telegraphing their finesse through gasps and sighs.The position was an unaccustomed one; I was used to lying or sitting down. As wonderfully perverse as it felt, keeping myself balanced was proving to be a distraction. I began to wonder if I could finish this way.He sensed my discomfort, took my free hand with his, and anchored it below his right shoulder. "You can brace yourself if it helps."It did. The leverage was exactly. ”“Only for the time being?”“Until I’m no longer your Grace.”That was it. They clung to each other but neither said another word.They parted, went to their own cars and drove to Terry’s home where Grace got her usual warm welcome.Terry was his responsible self after supper and went off to study. Grace went home not that long afterwards.“I like that girl more and more each time I see her,” Jean said to Roddy.“So I reckon does Terry,” Roddy grinned.“Well, I won’t stand in their way if anything develops.”“Nor will I. Her head’s screwed on, she’s amusing and very pretty.”“Watch it, boy!”“Yes, ma’am.”Grace left early the next morning for her parents’. She intended to be there for lunch. She was having had a good trip without major holdups. Her parents, Jerry and Belinda (Belle for short and to all her friends), were delighted and excited to see her as was she to see them. They had a pre-lunch drink but as her father was in his working clothes they stayed in the kitchen.Grace’s weekly.
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