Kristina Williams

summer, a person doesn't want to be going around in a heavy bathrobe. But still and all . . . This one wasn't bad-looking for an old lady. She had black hair and black eyes, and she didn't need to put her face on of a morning, like so many do. The white thing she was wearing was cut down practically to her navel, and I could see the nipples of her breasts through it. They were standing up, as rosy as an apple. But I already knew before I looked at the nipples. "Good morning," I said. "Grocery boy." She laughed, a low and throaty sound. "I didn't think you were the neighborhood rapist." I shut the door of the refrigerator. "Want me to put up the canned stuff for you?" I asked. "That would be nice." Her