I turned to my wife, saying casually,"I wonder if the owner would be interested in selling?"It was a throwaway remark. We were living in a rented flat not far away, but had been considering buying our own home; we wanted to live closer to the church we attended, to make a commitment to the area which was characterised by prostitution and drug dealing. My wife was a teacher; she'd been qualified and working for five years. I, although older, had just begun training as a psychiatric nurse. Not wealthy, but we were in a position to buy. My wife grabbed the remark and ran with it; there were times over the next few years I was to regret having made it, but we prayed about it. The area had a residents' association dedicated to maintaining the historical character of the area and improving the present condition; they helped us to track down the owners.No, they weren't interested in selling – they were working on a grant application to restore the property to rent. So that, we thought, was. In two weeks we were seeing each other on a daily basis, school or no school we hanged out everyday. My school mates had asked me what was wrong with me in the classes that we had together and tried to remind me of my old hatred for Shangoy. I told them all to bollocks off as she was different, that I could and did tust her. In three more weeks we summed up the courage for me to stay the weekend at her place, when I met her father dispite us not being in a romantic relationship, I was scared as I hoped one day my feelings for her would be the same way she felt about me and we all know how fathers can be. We meet had a hand shake then he said that he was sorry that he couldn't stay but he and his wife Joanne had to go to a wedding in L.A. so they were gone for the weekend. So it was just Caity and I all alone in her house, sure all I could think of was fucking her, but she was also my friend and I didn't want to force her outside her comfort zone. She said she would be right back as.
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