“Absolutely not,” he replied,“Then why is a junior oak tree rising in your breeches even as we speak?” she observed, “A stout oak of vigorou... growth.”“I can only apologise, but it is your turn of conversation,” he countered, “Please let us speak of something else.”.“My boobies,” she laughed, “Have they roused you, do you think my little buds are all stood up pressing my bodice.”“Miss Fanshawe!” Charles protested.She leaned forward so he could see down between her breasts, “Can you see or should. She was curled into a ball, her pajamas stretched over her smoothly rounded hips and firm thighs, one hand folded loosely into a fist near her cheek. She lay on her side, her face toward me, her eyes softly closed and her lips parted. She seemed touchingly angelic. It had been years since I'd watched her sleeping. For a while I dared not move; I had only a few days to see her this way. My brain ached with the question: How could this woman, this grown woman, so lovely, so intelligent, so. More

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