The house was silent and gloomy in the half-light of dawn. Jimmy switched on a lamp and opened his book, Crochet for Beginners: From Simple Squares to Afghan Blankets. Page six. It had turned his crank to watch Doris while she crocheted. There was a rhythm to her left hand (the raised index finger, the closed middle finger and thumb) that called to mind other things: her hand moving down his torso, and farther still. Even now it heated him up to think of her industrious fingers. But Jimmy shook off that line of thought; he made a slipknot with his practice yarn and dropped it over the crochet hook. After that, things got tricky.
The first chain, now that was pretty straightforward. It was just under and over and pull it through until he had linked twenty-one stitches. How in hell he was s
