She smelled wonderful. When she put her glass down her handbrushed my thigh. It felt like an electric shock and I just tensed up.She said Glen, don'... you like me? We seemed to hit it off so well andfrankly we are not spring chickens, so why haven't you made a move?Between the wine, her presence and the literally years since my lastsexual encounter I was overwhelmed. Should I be honest with her? Ireally like, even more than like, Pat. But if I was honest with her Iwould be so embarrassed. They were both taking refuge from the unexpected Tunisian downpour beneath a low timber roof designed to shelter deck chairs: not two women shivering in their swimsuits.When the rain had started, Ginny made no attempt to run for the shelter of the hotel. Too much was happening in her Anne Tyler novel at that moment to justify that. And, anyway, the rain would soon stop.But it didn't. It got heavier and heavier, graduating from tiny dimples in the sand to an overall marshy greyness. Finally,. More

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