’ I asked as I stood behind her and securely re-tied the knot of the apron. ‘No … I mean yes … I mean it is OK.’ She stuttered, rather uncha...acteristically. My nostrils flared as they picked up her feminine scent in the hot kitchen. I put my arms around her and hugged her from behind, feeling her soft body against mine. ‘Sameer! What are you doing! Stop it!!’ She whispered. She still had her hands extended forward, not wanting her clothes to become messy with dough. I untied the apron, sneaked. I was 15 years old then, it was Christmas and Iwas home for the school holidays. Unfortunately I had a bit of anaccident playing rugby and couldn't wear trousers due to the injury so Iwas lounging around in my dressing gown.I lived at home with my mum and my sister who is two years older than me.At that time my father was abroad serving in the Navy.My mother was not happy that I spend all day looking scruffy although sheunderstood the problem I had. She wanted me to look smart at least forour. More

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