"Grandmother this is Spiders truck now. If she wants it she'll come andget it. Maybe Tabitha or Amy will grow up to drive it," he said.The old woman ignored him as she continued on to the house.When they reached the house they found three plates setting on thetable. "Eat children, then go play house. I have business to attend to."Smoke Rising ate in silence then stood up and left for the solitude ofher Adobe house.It was near midnight when they heard the sounds of a truck outside.Looking out the window they saw Pheasant nosed into the barn, hisheadlights shining on Dream Weaver slowly inching into the barn.By the time they'd gotten dressed they heard the obvious sounds of adiesel engine whining as it turned over. Sluggish at first and thenstronger until finally the engine caught and idled rough.Squeezing past his truck they found the front bumpers fused together.Then they noticed the rear doors had been opened and Smoke Rising wassitting at the steering wheel of the old Diamond 'T', a. She should have put a stop to it. She should have thrown him out.She certainly should not have gone along with him and let him undress her down to her bra and panties. And she sure as hell shouldn't have accepted his offer for a neck massage as a means of apology. The massage had been the beginning of the end. Oh God, those hands and those damn fingers of his!If only he had kept his hands on her neck. Oh, no! Not Michael. Not Mister Magic-Touch. He had to touch all her exposed skin - shoulders, back, ribs, belly, hips, thighs, calves, and feet. And she let him. Damn! He must have planned this from the start.She was relaxed and trusting - so trusting that while he massaged her feet, she stretched back on the couch and let her legs fall open. Her panties were soaked. He probably could smell her. Too bad for him, he couldn't see anything.She was so relaxed - so aroused - that when he asked her for "one little bitty touch" she said nothing. She let him do what he wanted, or at least what.
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