I knew it wasn’t Sam or Henry; they were working: it being a Monday afternoon. I went to answer it.“Rebecca!” I said. I was caught totally off guard.“Hi dad,” she said.“I ... I’m surprised, aren’t you supposed to be in school?” I said being totally at a loss as to what else to say. My daughter smirked.“Yes,” she said, “I can see that you’re surprised. Dad can we talk?”“Uh—okay, come in,” I said. “I skittered back inside on my wheel board and led her into the small front room of my small and unpretentious one bedroom abode. My computer, one loaned to me by the church, was sitting on the little all-purpose table across from the couch. “Have a seat,” I said, indicating the couch that I rarely sat on. She did.“Dad, how are you?” she said. She was clearly nervous, but hell, so was I.“Okay. I’m okay,” I said. “It’s good to see you. But again, aren’t you supposed to be in school today?” I could feel myself getting a little emotional. Seeing her there, even with what I knew she thought of. A small sigh escaped her lips, and he found himself wondering where she was in her world of dreams. He pressed his lips to her neck, tasting the salty flavor of her skin. It was then that she moved, that her eyelids fluttered, and his heart raced. 3:45. The numbers on the digital clock by the bed cast a green glow over the room as her eyes fluttered, and she was pulled from her dream, where she was meeting him again for the first time. She felt the tangible electric shock course through her body as he first walked up to her table, tasted the metallic flavor of the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and smelled her own sexual response at his first touch. His lips on her neck burned into her consciousness, and his hands grazing over her flesh ignited those long ago feeling again, just as it did every time he touched her. She turned toward him, a sleepy smile on her face, and moved her hands to cradle his face, pulling his lips close to her own, and kissing him deeply, softly,.
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