She reminisced, "Being in my robe, while a towel's wrapped around your waist, reminds me of something that once happened between us."Her brother's eyes were glazed. He was having trouble comprehending their simple conversation and mumbled, "What's that?" She told him. He hesitated before answering, then nodded, saying, "I think about that night every once in a while."Although Ellen hadn't noticed, her white beach robe had fallen open as she leaned forward, exposing generous proportions of her breasts and her slim stomach. Roger stole occasional glances at her semi-bared breasts as she breathed softly and at the brownish circle of a nipple that he could see from where he sat.She flattened the palm of his hand against her thigh; the tips of her fingers brushed his muscular arm. She asked, "What do you think about?"He described the incident just as Ellen had told me, stopping now and then in his recollection as if he kept forgetting his train of thought. And eventually he'd recalled it. Everything that had happened between us was always so hot and fast and felt so good, I hadn’t stopped to analyze it. I didn’t want to. I pulled up by Callie’s house and sat in the car for a minute, my thoughts scattered. I shook myself and got out, remembering the first time I’d seen her place. I had been almost surprised to find Callie had a house. She had to live somewhere, but I had first seen her as so exotic and mysterious that a house had seemed too ordinary. I had envisioned her living in a tent on the beach, or a cave along the shore or something. It turned out she lived in a bungalow not far off the beach. It was quiet and she had space to work on her weaving. She had neighbors, but none too close, so we didn’t have to worry about, you know, being too loud. Callie came out as I was grabbing my stuff from the trunk. ‘Hi, handsome.’ She leaned against the porch rail, giving me a good view of her cleavage in the low-cut summer dress she wore. ‘Hey, gorgeous.’ I smiled as I.
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