She had seen that look, many, many times. Lessa opened her canteen and offered it. The largest, black haired, slowly leaned forward, hand tentatively ...taking it., He took a long sip, eyes never leaving hers. His companion clung to him, shaking, and with one hand rubbing his back in comfort the older boy whispered encouragement. Holding the canteen up to his friend's lips, he convinced him to drank the cool water as well. He then handed the flask back to Lessa."Thank ... thank you."Lessa. # On Sunday morning, there was a bundle of coriander and a half-dozen tiger lilies. I flushed when I lifted it off of my windshield. An offer. A promise. Underneath it was something else. Inside of another zip-lock bag was a painting that was the size of a postcard. It was the rendering of a house, brilliantly done in the impressionist style. So brilliantly done, I wondered if this was a professional artist--perhaps one I'd seen before. With a closer look, I realized that this was a house I. I grind against him and wrap my legs around him while he walks us over to a lean-to wall. He pushes my back against it and the corrugated iron presses hard on my back. I break away and start to kiss and suck his neck. He throws his head back and moans. I uncurl my legs from him and stand to the ground. He takes my hand and we make our way back to the picnic table. I note that it is the perfect height for him to bend me over and fuck me from behind. He lifts my shirt over my head and I. “Brad?” “Yeah, that mad Aussie from summer camp?” She winced. “Oh my God, Brad!” “Remember me now?” Did she remember? She smiled. He had been the Australian lifeguard on a bible camp, his atheism balanced by his easygoing attitudes and a willingness to listen that had assuaged the initial fears of the camp counselors. Nevertheless, whenever they were far from prying eyes and listening ears, Katie had discovered an unexplored world untouched by piety and dogma, forbidden.