That was surprising. I wondered if she had a crush on me and was hoping to get close in an inappropriate way. No sooner had I thought it than she said, "My mother does that when I'm upset". It was a slightly odd thing to say, but she relieved my fear.She stopped crying, and I removed my hand."I know you are so kind and that is so, so wonderful." After some more tears she composed herself. Finally she took a deep breath and looked at me."Think of a number between 1 and 100."I thought of 37."Thirty-seven," she said.I was amused."Another one."I thought of 7, then thought that was too easy so I picked 97.She said, "Ninety-seven, but first you thought of seven but changed your mind because it would be too easy."Now I was truly startled and alarmed. Then she too looked alarmed, and a little panicked, then started crying again."You can read my thoughts?" I said, numb and dumbfounded. She nodded.I immediately went through my other thoughts. I felt sorry for Lindsay, remembering how she had. The memory of what she did in the bar and in the park still took her breath away; so did her outrageous actions in Winter Garden. She had enjoyed it all, even if she'd been scared shitless. She never felt ashamed for what she did there, not even now — so why this crushing feeling of failure? Why didn't she just cop out and put the blame on Angique for forcing her; for going too fast?It would have been easy to regard it all as an act forced upon her. It would free her of guilt and shame. But she would be lying. The actions had been hers, even while she relived them. She'd welcomed them, enjoyed them, and there had been no shame, no regret."You were not impatient, Mistress," she murmured, arching against the rubbing hands. "I loved it all ... and then I got scared." She turned around, embracing the woman. "If anything, you've been too patient with me. In the end I needed you to force me — to take away my responsibility. It would have overridden my silly fear. I am sure I can do.
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