"Oh, my, God," she gasped out loud as a jolt of electricity shot up from her clitoris and burst into brain driving away the feeling of desolation for a moment.

What was going on, she asked herself as she hesitantly ran her finger over her bulging clit? It had never been so sensitive before. And why now after all these months. After all the lonely days and nights since Bob had been taken from her, why was this happening to her now? Was God out to punish her for something? First the sorrow and depression and now this. She had to do something. Do something or talk to someone or she would go crazy. But who or what, she feverishly wondered to herself. There was no one around. No one to talk to, except Bobby. Bobby her thirteen-year-old son, who was down in his room, probably asleep since school was out for the summer. But she couldn't talk to him about it. She couldn't tell him how lonely she was and how much she needed companionship. She wanted to be held. Held and touched in a way, he could never touch her. How could she expect a thirteen-year-old to understand that she was a woman who had needs? She was only thirty-five. Thirty-five and all alone. She felt so empty and lonely. She needed a MAN! Tears began to course down her face as she wallowed in her own self-pity. What could she do to make herself whole again? She wanted to be held. Held and made to feel wanted again. Made to feel like a woman again. A normal, healthy woman who had need, too.

What could she do? How could she make the lonely ache inside her heart go away? Bobby? She knew that she could never even think about anything with him, but maybe she at least ask him if he could hold her, couldn't she? She held him whenever he needed a hug. What would be wrong with him returning the favor? It would feel nice to be held by someone who loved her.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she quickly slipped out of bed. Reaching down to the floor, she picked up her dressing gown and wrapped it around her. Not thinking about how sheer the gown was and what effect the sight of her obvious nakedness underneath the transparency of the flimsy gown might have on her thirteen-year-old son, she quickly hurried down the hallway. Padding down to her son's room in her bare feet, she stopped in front of the door to his room and ran her hands down her body, smoothing the gossamer material. Suddenly, she realized that he would be able to see everything through the transparent material. Should she go back to her room and put something on that was less revealing? Probably, she thought and started to turn and go back, but something stopped her. The feeling of emptiness overwhelmed her. She would just hurry over and slip under the covers before he could see anything, she told herself, just wanting to get his arms around her as quick as she could.

Taking a deep breath, she reached down and turned the doorknob and tentatively pushed the door open. ......(cont)