And she ran to the house. I followed her, and she said "they are under my dress, and sting me." "Take it off," I said.She looked at me, and crying, began to go in the house. "No, take it off out here so the yellow jackets won't be in the house," I told her. "I can't, you will see me." I said, look, I am 55 years old and have seen several naked women. Take the damn dress off so you won't get stung any more." Finally she did, and was I shocked to see that she was not wearing underwear–no panties, no bra. But I could see the stings, already swelling. It looked like she had dozens of stings.I followed her in the house and said, get on the table and I will try to help you. She sat on the edge of the table and I told her that I was going to suck the poison out of the stings. I started on legs, and asked if that helped. She said it did, but she was embarrassed with me seing her naked. Bob was the only other man who had ever seen her this way, she told me.I sucked the stings on. The idea of letting her slip away before having the chance to just speak with her suddenly terrified him. To lose that chance, though sure to be slim, at sharing in such fervor was something he would not do. Still oblivious to the man with her among the flowers, Marie collected her tools to head back to her dreary apartment. How she hated the city, its dark streets, shuffling shadows and gray demeanor. This garden set apart in the center of it was her only escape. She had promised herself long ago that someday she would flee its monotony for the flowing meadows of the country she had grown up in. Goodness that seemed so long ago, but she still had not lost hope of returning. The gloom of spending another evening alone there though made it even more foreboding. Lost in these thoughts and memories, Marie did not hear the man approaching until she felt his presence almost right next to her. Startled, she whirled around to find him standing only a few feet away, simply gazing at her. .
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