He had meant it. Damn him. I hadn’t gone back to Florida. I’d taken an extended leave from work and stayed on at the farm with Pater (Man Of The House). I wanted to get to know him better and continue to explore things with Noah. No matter what I’d tried in the following weeks I’d gotten nothing but panusionate kissing.
And I had tried. I’d tried getting him out of his clothes and he’d had nothing of it. I’d tried surprising him at his house while he was in the shower and out of his clothes. He’d promptly gotten out with shampoo in his hair and gone outside to rinse off in cold hose water. It went on that way for two months, two long months in which we had gotten to know each other and the spark had grown to a flame out of control. One month ago I had admitted to myself the truth, I was
