We curled up together on the sofa, savoring the steamy liquid."So what outfit are you wearing for tomorrow evening?" I asked.She turned her green eyes to me and smiled. "I seem to remember something you tell me about dark green. I have the sweater that matches that dress and shoes that you like." Perfect!" I said. "Atlanta hasn't been hit like that since Sherman." I hope I don't do as much damage," she giggled. My Cindy learned her history."Scarlett O'Hara doesn't hold a candle to my Cindy," I smiled.I retrieved a hard suitcase from the under-bed storage and we carefully stowed her dress and my suit and shirt. Our normal, informal attire went into the duffel-style overnight bags we each carried on our weekend outings.After packing, we went to bed, cuddling in the cool air of the trailer, listening to the north wind howling outside. The cuddle started something because a little redhead pushed me from lying on my side, facing her, onto my back, and her mouth fastened to my chest.I felt. " You two aren't swingers are you?" I teased."Bastard!" she griped as I rubbed the thong across the front of my jeans."You're still mad about that, aren't you? After all these years." What," I asked, looking up from my book later that afternoon."Me telling Mom." Telling Mom! Fuck, you told the whole world!" I growled, still angry after four years."Well it was your fault. What the hell, I find you rooting around in my panties, your thing sticking out... yuck... it was disgusting." I was just a kid. I didn't know any better." You surprised me. It scared me." You were eighteen!" I was a virgin." So you had to tell all your friends, all my friends, Christ, everyone in the neighborhood that I was a pervert?" Maybe I shouldn't have told everyone," she finally conceded. "But it was your fault."Saturday, July 22ndAs we continued to talk the rest of Friday and into Saturday the walls between us crumbled lower and lower. The more we talked the more we realized just how much we liked each other,.
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