I didn't need to worry about snide wisecracks or hurtful words, no snipes or cheap shots.I hadn't realized how tense my day had been until that moment.Reluctantly I finally freed myself, feasted my eyes on Greg. Oh, he looked good to me in his usual crisp shirt and jeans. I could see in his eyes, mingled with concern for me, the same love and hunger I was feeling for him. My whole body was singing with desire, so strong it was scary."You don't hate me," I exulted as they gently guided me into the studio, my legs suddenly no longer under my control, Kathy closing the door behind us. "Even after I made such a fool of myself." Get her backpack off," Kathy ordered Greg, her fingers attacking the buttons on my shirt. "Let's all get out of all these silly clothes. We don't hate you! Why would you think that?" Be careful!" I pleaded. "It's my nicest blouse! I -- I made a spectacle of myself!" Shush!" Her hands on my cheeks, she muffled my protests with a series of sweet, tender, tender. Oh no! Amanda thought.Ms. Mallard sighed in irritation and looked down, her eyes spying the bit of glass protruding from under the sofa. She reached out with her free hand."Let me get that for you, Ms. Mallard!" Amanda cried, and started to drop to her knees, but to her horror saw that Ms. Mallard was going to get there first. A scant second before Ms. Mallard's hand was about to close about the round, shiny object under the sofa, Amanda purposely knocked the glass from the social worker's hand and upended the water into her lap.Both Ms. Mallard and Frank leapt up from the sofa, the former making sounds of surprise and disgust as the water soaked her paperwork and her dress. Papers that managed to remain dry slipped out of her folder and onto the floor and sofa."I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Mallard!" Amanda exclaimed, trying to feign a look of horror to cover her relief.Behind Ms. Mallard, Frank covered his mouth to hide a smirk. "Shall I get you a towel, Ms. Mallard?" I would say you both.
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