I couldn’t see them that wellunder the bluejean material. She moaned, “I normallyuse the pump or I feed the baby. I misplaced the pumpafte... I filled up the bottles for little Armando Jr.,so he would have enough milk while he stays at yourparent’s house. I don’t know what to do! I’m soengorged! It feels like their gonna explode!”“Do you want me to help you?” I asked her. She satlooking like she was in some pain, nodding her headyes. I muted the TV. The lights were off and it was private, but there was enough light filtering in from outside to see clearly. To see him. To see the joy and hunger in is eyes. His arms were around me again, loving hands on my waist, my back, grabbing my ass through my skirt, sliding under my shirt to my warm skin as we searched each others mouths, tasting, teasing. Talking could wait, this touching and tasting and looking was what we couldn’t accomplish online. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I wondered. More

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