He handled her as if it were foreplay to a session of sweet lovemaking. With the backs of his fingers he caressed her smooth cheek and full soft lips ...ausing her to look up. Their eyes met, his slightly indicating anxious anticipation, hers, definitely fear. In a similar, gentle way he ran the back of his fingers along the inside of her raised upper arm, then down over her shoulder, down her chest to the top of her breast. Residual tan line accentuated the creamy smooth, soft, tender white. Things like these always seemed to help ease the tension felt at a graveside. At least that was how it was for him, looking around the grave at his fellow mourners, he wasn’t so sure. Thunderous clouds hung heavy in the morning sky, the heavens using their own tears to merge with those of the congregation. The woman stood close to him, almost side by side. He instantly recognised his Foster Mother – a tall, robust woman he’d not spoken to in years… not since he’d left home under the blackest of. More

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