I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. "I thought I got two for every one of yours."

He made a mock face of affront. "That's a very saucy mouth you have." He touched the scar on my bottom lip. "I might have to just silence it with something."

"Not a ball gag," I said, pulling back, a bit of apprehension filling me.

"That's not quite what I had in mind…" He grinned. "And remember your manners…"

"Oh, sorry," I said, grimacing. "Master…"

"Good girl," he said, his face becoming stern once more. "Now, on your knees."

I slid off his lap and on my knees between his spread legs, my hands on his muscular thighs.

"Take me out and lick me."

A thrill went through me at the sound of command in his voice and the dark look in his eyes. I reached to his jeans and unbuckled the belt and top button and then unzipped, to find he was naked under them. His cock was thick and so hard and sprang out once I pulled the material aside, the head smooth and wet with his fluid. I held his shaft in both hands and began licking him, starting as low as I could get and up his shaft to the head, my tongue circling it before lapping off the fluid that leaked off it.

"That's very nice, Katherine. Now, take me in your mouth and suck."

I did as he commanded, the head large and smooth against my tongue and cheeks. It was difficult to take him all in he was so thick, but I managed, sucking as I moved my mouth over the head, up and down, while I stroked his shaft with my hands.

My hair fell over my face and he pulled it back, holding it up, twisting it in his hand.

"More," he said, guiding my head just a bit. "Deeper."

I tried, but he was huge and it was difficult. I was able to get him in deeper, but only the first few inches and then, when he pulled my head down a bit too far, I gagged. He let up, not guiding me as firmly and his grip on my hair lessened.

"That's good, Kate," he said as if to encourage me. "Stroke with your hands."

I did, taking him as deep as I could with my mouth, stroking with both my hands. I felt his cock become harder under my lips and tongue and then he tensed, but he stopped my motions completely. He breathed in deeply as if to ward off his orgasm.

"Pull off, now," he said, his voice urgent and I did, licking the head once before I looked up at his face, waiting for his next command. His face and neck were flushed, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in deeply several times. "Good girl," he said. "You have a sweet mouth, but I want your other lips on me now."

He pulled me up and then stood. "Undress me."

I pulled the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, then dropped it onto the pile of my own clothes. Next, I pulled his jeans down and he stepped out of the legs so that he was naked in front of me, his magnificent cock jutting out, wet from my saliva.

He took my hand and led me back to the bedroom, practically picking me up and throwing me onto the bed so that I lay across it sideways on my back. He loomed over me, his hands on both sides of my shoulders. He leaned down and kissed me, rubbing his cock over my pussy. When he pulled away, he just looked at me, his gaze moving down over my face and lower to my body lying beneath him.

"Are you're going to tie me up?" I said, breathless, waiting.

He frowned briefly. "Kate, a proper submissive doesn't ask questions about her Dom's plans on how to top her. And she makes sure to use the proper form of address…"

I covered my eyes with a hand. "I'm sorry, Master. It's just that I'm curious—"

He silenced me with his mouth, kissing me in mid-sentence. Then, he pulled back, examining me like I was a problem he was trying to solve, blinking rapidly.

"I don't want to move too fast with bondage so I didn't bring any gear," he said, his voice soft. "It can be very arousing but also scary at first. But maybe just a bit for now. Your hands perhaps…"

He rose up and went to an armoire, sorting through his belts, testing them one after the other, but he seemed unhappy with them all. Then he examined a hanger with several ties on it, selecting a black leather tie. He returned to the bed and held it out in front of me so I could see it. Thin and flexible, it was from a by-gone fashion era. I couldn’t help but grin as he examined it. He caught my grin and turned to me.

"Ms. Bennet, that grin is entirely inappropriate to the mood I'm trying to create…"

I covered my mouth, trying to hide my huge smile. "Master, I'm sorry," I said, my voice betraying my amusement. "But I was imagining you wearing it when you were a college student… So hip with your thin leather tie. I bet the coeds were all over you."

"Oh, I was very groovy, Ms. Bennet, in my day," he said, grinning finally, his blue eyes twinkling.

Then, he very roughly took my hands in his and held them over my head, his grip a bit too firm as if he was trying to re-establish dominance, his face becoming stern once more.

"You are too cute, Katherine, and able to distract me too well, but I want you to focus on what I'm doing here and now."

I swallowed hard, shocked back into the moment, the smile fading on my face. I didn't want him to be unhappy with the way things were going and exhaled heavily. How quickly the mood could change between us…

"I'm sorry, Master," I said, barely able to whisper.

His eyes burned into mine. "If your mind wanders, I'll have to bring you back with me. I want you here, with me, mentally and emotionally, Kate. With me in the moment. Focused."

I nodded, unable to speak, feeling a bit like a bad little girl getting disciplined. Then, I realized I was being disciplined. He kept staring in my eyes as if waiting to see compliance in them.

That look in his eyes – stern, demanding, in control – sent a thrill of desire through my body. Finally, I breathed in deeply, letting go of my attempt to control anything, my mind or my body. As if he sensed my release, he sighed.

"Good girl," he said. He held my hands above my head with one hand and reached down to touch my bottom lip with a finger, stroking the tiny scar there. Then he leaned down and kissed me and my body responded, my heart racing, pressing against him, a little groan escaping me when he ground himself against my pussy.

He pulled away and stood, taking my hands in his and binding them together with the leather tie, the knot tight but not so tight that it constricted them or was uncomfortable.

"Test them. Feel them. They won't get any tighter than that, no matter what you do. I've used a special knot so don't worry. They should be fine no matter how you pull on them. But if they do get tighter, tell me right away if it becomes painful in a way you can't tolerate."

I nodded and tried to pull my wrists apart. Then, he pushed me back onto the bed and fastened the other end of the leather tie to one of the spindles in the headboard. There wasn't much give. I pulled at the tie to feel how secure it was. I wouldn't be able to get free if I wanted to and I realized then that I was truly confined now. I was here until he released me. I couldn't run away.

That did something to me, that knowledge, and heat rose in my body, up over my chest and to my face. I panicked a bit, my heart racing, breathing faster. But even with the bit of panic, my body responded, my clit throbbing, a trickle between my thighs. He had one hand on my neck as if feeling my pulse, and he watched me intently, his brow a bit furrowed, his gaze moving over my face.

"Now you understand," he said, his voice husky. His own breathing had increased, his cock jumping against my groin as if the knowledge he had me tied up and totally helpless made him even harder. "You're completely mine now, Katherine. All you can do is kick me and scream, but I can easily gag you if I want, and besides, Mr. Neumann won't hear you."

"Are you trying to scare me?" I said, my eyes stinging just a bit.

"No," he said softly. "But this is serious now. You have to trust me completely to let me do this." He let that sink in for a moment. "Do you? If you don't, we'll stop right now."

I searched his face. If I didn't know him, his expression and the position I was in would scare me to my core. But I did know him. I knew him as a man. I did trust him.

Completely.

He would never hurt me purposely. He'd shown that time and again.

"Yes," I said, relaxing fully, forcing my body to go limp beneath him. "Master…"

Then he kissed me, his eyes still open, one hand cupping my cheek. The kiss started off soft, tender, but soon became more intense, more needy, his tongue finding mine, insistent, searching. He finally closed his eyes and sucked my tongue into his mouth, then licked my bottom lip, biting it before moving down over my chin and neck, stopping over my carotid as if to feel my pulse again to monitor my level of excitement.

He squeezed my breasts, kneading them, pulling the lacy fabric down once more so that they jutted out. He started sucking my nipples, biting them gently, before sucking them once again, increasing the pressure on his teeth each time, always licking and sucking afterwards so that my nipples were almost excruciatingly sensitive. Each nibble and each suck and each lick sent thrills through me right to my clit as if the two were connected. His bites were just on the verge of pain but never going too far over and the way his tongue pulled on my nipples after just heightened everything.

"I don't like pain," I said, almost in a delirium. "Master," I added quickly, my voice shaky.

"I'm just seeing how far I can go with you," he said, his breath warm on my skin. "You don't really know yet what you like and what you don't like if you haven't really tried. I can tell you like what I'm doing now by how your body responds," he said, thrusting two fingers between my labia to see how wet I was. "I won't go too far. Now keep completely still or I'll have to tie up your feet as well."

I closed my eyes as he moved lower, his mouth and tongue tracing a trail down over my belly to my pussy. He began to lick me all over again, slowly, pressing his tongue flat against me, not making direct contact on my clit just yet and I longed to thrust my hips up but tried to keep still like he commanded. Finally, my flesh throbbing, aching for contact, he spread my thighs and ran his tongue up and over my clit, making me moan out loud.

When he slipped several fingers inside of me, I clenched around him, unable to control my body. I was so close to orgasm, I knew I wouldn’t last long if he moved his fingers at all.

"Master, I'm so close…"

 "Good girl," he said, his voice sounding pleased. He pulled away from me and got up onto his knees, then lifted me, turning me over so that I was in doggie position, my weight borne by my elbows and knees, face to the side pressed against the bed. He just remained behind me, his hands moving over me, stroking up and down my back, and down my thighs. Then, he slipped fingers between my labia and began stroking slowly up and inside me. When his thumb made contact with my anus, I tensed completely.

"Please, no…"

"Shh," he said, leaning over me, his fingers still inside of me, thumb pressed against me. "You signed the contract, Kate. This is part of it. I won't penetrate you now. Just getting you used to the sensation. Relax."

I remained tense for a moment, unsure of the sensations, my anxiety about any anal contact overriding the sensation of his fingers inside of me. He wrapped his other arm around me and played with my clit, and soon, the pleasure from the contact combined with that of his fingers inside of me did overcome my reluctance and I relaxed. As if he could feel it, he kissed my shoulder, then bit it gently.

"That's my good girl," he said. "No moralistic judgment of what you enjoy allowed, Katherine. Just let yourself feel."

He kept stimulating me in that position, fingers on my clit, fingers stroking me just a few inches inside, his thumb moving in a circle over my anus, and he once again brought me right to the brink of orgasm, the pleasure almost reaching the point of no return.

I gasped, barely able to speak. "I'm going to…"

He immediately withdrew his fingers and just remained in that position, his hands on either side of me, his body covering mine, his cock pressed against my pussy but unmoving.

"Just breathe, Kate," he said, kissing my neck and shoulder. I did, breathing deeply and soon, the sensation subsided and I just waited, my body so ready, my mind almost blank to everything except the feel of his body against mine.

I wanted him inside of me. All of him. Every inch.

Finally, he turned me over, kneeling on the bed, pulling my hips into position on his lap, spreading my thighs with his hands. He stroked the head of his cock over my labia slowly, circling my clit each time. He began that familiar tease, slipping the tip of his cock just inside of me, then pulling out, stroking my clit, repeating it over and over again, building back up so that I was breathing hard and fast, my cunt so in need of him inside of me.

"What do you want, Katherine?" he said, watching my face. "Tell me what you want. Beg me."

I could barely think coherent thoughts, let alone form words.

"Please, Master," I gasped, licking my lips, my mouth dry.  "Fuck me."

He slid into me, pressing his entire length inside of me, his fingers on my clit and I groaned because it felt so sweet, the pressure so good, so satisfying.

"Yes, you like that, don't you?" he said, pulling completely out and stroking my clit again with his cock. Then he thrust inside all the way again and kept thrusting, his fingers light on my clit and soon, I was there once more, my mind lost to the sensations, and I couldn't even speak. I gritted my teeth as the sweetness started, spreading out from my clit and vagina, through my body.

He leaned over me, sliding into missionary position quickly, his hands on either side of my head, his face over mine. "Look in my eyes," he said, his voice harsh. "Say my name when you come."

I could barely keep my eyes open, the pleasure was so intense. As my pleasure crested, I tried to speak, but could barely gasp out his name. He thrust faster, harder, until finally, he came as well, grimacing, his own eyes closing briefly before opening again, boring into mine.

His whole body tensed, his hips thrusting and then he kept himself deep inside of me, withdrawing to repeat the deep thrust, grunting as he ejaculated. Then he collapsed against me, his face in the crook of my neck, his breath coming in gasps against my skin.

For the next few moments, we both recovered, not saying anything. He kissed my neck, my shoulder, my face, and finally, my mouth, the kiss warm and tender. Once again, he rose up, his cock still inside of me and slowly withdrew, watching my body as he did and I couldn’t help but smile, turning my face to the side.

"What's that smile about, Ms. Bennet? Does my kink amuse you?"

 I didn't say anything, mirth building in me, afraid I'd burst into laughter if I spoke.

"Well?"

I looked at him and he was grinning, his blue eyes twinkling, but I couldn't say a word.

"I can't wait to see it over other parts of your very delicious body. Maybe your luscious breasts. Or that smirking mouth, which I'm going to kiss right now, just to wipe that smile off your saucy face."

He did, lying back on top of me, kissing me again, barely able to keep the smile of his face when he did. He pulled back and looked in my eyes. "A Dom isn't supposed to lose control of the scene so easily. I may have to spank your delicious ass to remind you to show proper respect for your Dom's kinks…"

My eyes widened at that. "Now?"

He shook his head. "Oh, no. Not now. Your first spanking will only come before a good fucking. I wouldn’t want to waste getting you all wet. I'd only spank you when I was going to fuck you immediately afterward. And my spanking would make you very wet."

I swallowed at that, my mouth dry, imagining it.

"We’re still two to one," he said, smiling. "I won’t be really happy until it's three to one."

"Three?" I said, closing my eyes as he nuzzled my neck. "I don’t think I can do three."

"Of course you can. If you can do two, you can do three. You're young and you're multi-orgasmic."

"I don't think so," I said. "Two seems to be the most I can have in one encounter."

"You've just set me a challenge, Ms. Bennet," he said, grinning. "The kind a neurosurgeon like me can't resist."

Then he began nibbling at my neck again.

"Please, no," I said, gasping just a bit when he moved down to my nipples, which were extremely sensitive from his teeth. "I'm too sensitive."

He rose up briefly and frowned at me. "Katherine…" There was no smile on his face. "You signed. Is this truly a red-light matter?"

I blinked rapidly, considering. I shook my head. "It's just," I said, softly, not wanting to argue but unable to imagine any more stimulation. "I'm so tender right now…"

"All the better to make you come again," he said. "Women are different from men, Katherine. You have a very minimal refractory period and can orgasm again almost immediately if you relax and let me take control. The way you agreed to…"

"What if I don't want to?"

"You gave control over your body to me. I want you to. I thought you understood that."

I sighed and closed my eyes, turning my head to the side.

He crawled up until he was directly over me, took my chin in his hand and held my eyes with his.

"What is it, Kate? Why are you resisting this?" He shook his head. "It's not like another orgasm is a bad thing."

I shook my head in return. I didn't know why. It just seemed like the purpose of all this was for us to enjoy each other and I just didn’t feel I needed to come again. It was more of a challenge to him rather than wanting my happiness. Then I realized something: his ability to exert control over me made him happy. As his submissive, my happiness was supposed to come from pleasing him.

I did want to please him. I wanted him. I wanted to be his submissive – to wait for him with anticipation the way he described in his letters to his subs, to watch him use me, make me feel what he wanted to make me feel – intense pleasure. To be totally controlled. When I signed the contract, I agreed that my body, my response was his to control and enjoy. Making me come three times would please him. My willingness to let him try would please him.

"Slave," he said, his voice firm. "Are you mine?"

I inhaled deeply. "Yes," I said, finally yielding. "Master…"

 

In the end, it turned out that I could come more than three times. In all, five. He made me come five times without stopping, using his fingers, his tongue and his once-more erect cock, as if to prove a point and reinforce that I wasn't to resist him, no matter what, unless what was happening was a red-light matter. Coming five times was not one.

By the time he was finished with me, I was almost incoherent, my mind in a kind of strange drifting bliss, my groin pleasantly achy, my clit still throbbing from all the stimulation.

"I'm going to be sore tomorrow,'" I said, closing my eyes as he untied my hands.

"Good," he said, and rubbed my wrists where I'd pulled at the leather tie. Then, he lifted me up into a seated position in his lap and began massaging my shoulders. "I want you sore. I want you to remember that you came five times. That I'm the one to set limits for your body, not you. You're far too timid and fearful to do so. You're too inexperienced. You don't know yet what you're capable of sexually, Kate. Let me be the one to discover how far you can go. That's what a D/s relationship is all about."

"I'm so tired…" I said, my eyes closing. "I have to get home. I'll call a taxi…"

  "Shh," he said, cradling me in his embrace. "You'll stay here tonight. You need to recover. Just lie with me."

"If I'm not at home and," I said, almost using Dawn's name before catching myself. "And that person comes by, they may become suspicious."

"Katherine," he said, his voice firm. "When you’re with me, I make the decisions. You're with me. I've decided you're staying the night."

I exhaled and just relaxed into his arms. "It's your neck, not mine…"

"It is." Then he laid me down on the bed and went to the bathroom, bringing back a warm washcloth that he used to wipe me off, starting at my face and then moving down over my body to my pussy, touching it gently to wipe away his come, the touch of the washcloth on my sensitive skin causing me to gasp just a bit.

He smiled, as if he enjoyed the thought I was uncomfortable.

"Does that please you?" I asked. "The thought I'm in pain?"

He stopped what he was doing and frowned. "Is it truly pain? Or is it just discomfort from a very thorough and enjoyable fucking?" He waited for a moment, watching me. "Answer me, Katherine. Is it because you were well-fucked? Remember the rules…"

I watched his face, trying to decide. "Yes, Master," I said finally, a tiny bit of annoyance in me despite how languid my body felt, my eyes closing.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Master," I said, too sleepy to open my eyes. "It's because I'm well-fucked."

"Good girl," he said and kissed me as if to reward me for good behavior.

"Can I ask why you call me a girl? I'm really not, you know. I'm almost twenty-five." I said while he continued to wipe me off. "A quarter century." I opened my eyes to see his response. He didn't stop what he was doing, but frowned again as if considering.

"I know you're a woman, Kate. You're an intelligent, passionate, caring woman. I respect you. I would never fuck a girl. The essence of a D/s relationship is power exchange between consenting adults. The submissive has to trust the Dominant enough to give over total control to him. In order for you to trust me, you have to feel that I truly am dominant in personality. That I can exert total control over you with confidence." He stopped his motions for a moment and turned to me, his eyes holding mine.

"You sound like a professor giving a lecture."

"I am a professor."

"Of surgery…"

"Of surgery, but I could teach BDSM. I do give lectures sometimes. You wanted to understand, Kate. You have to feel submissive for this to work. If you don't, you won't yield control to me. I have to use every weapon in my arsenal to ensure you feel it because that mind of yours is just too intelligent, too busy. When I call you girl, that reinforces the difference between us. I'm thirty five so I'm older than you. I'm more experienced. I'm more knowledgeable about sex. Most importantly, I'm able to control myself. Therefore, I'm able to control you. You can trust me to do so and you can just release yourself completely to feel whatever I decide you should feel."

He continued wiping off my body, his expression thoughtful. I said nothing, just watched him, enjoying the look of care on his face. He was totally involved in cleaning off my body, in caring for me, and that surprised me.

"Why are doing this?" I said, curious. "I could clean myself off. Isn't this a servant's job? Shouldn't I be cleaning you off?"

He paused and caught my eye. "Are you in any kind of condition to wash me?" He smiled briefly. "You turn yourself over to me completely, Kate. You allow me to restrain you, elicit intense emotions in you, make you feel strong passions and sensations, to use your body as I want to use it. You're my responsibility. My complete responsibility when we're together. Your body needs to be cleaned and tended. Your mind needs to be calmed and comforted. Doing so is my responsibility as well. Submissives can be very delicate emotionally after an intense scene. They need to be cared for. It's called aftercare. I enjoy doing it."

"So is our scene over now? We're back to normal people?"

He stroked the cloth over my thighs. "I'd prefer that when you're here, we stay in scene. Usually, I don’t have a sub stay overnight, but in this case, I don't think you should go home."

"Why don't you let them stay? Potatoes and gravy mixing with meat a bit too closely?"

He smiled but kept his eyes focused on my body as he wiped my calves. "Something like that."

"So, technically, I should still refer to you as Master."

He nodded. "I'll give you a bit of leeway since you're new." Then he threw the washcloth across the room into a laundry hamper. He knelt on the bed between my legs, his hands on his hips. "But next time, I expect perfect compliance with the terms of the contract or you'll get a spanking."

"Promise?" I said, unable to stop my smile.

"Oh, you…" He laid on top of me, his face in my neck. "That's called topping from the bottom and deserves a spanking in and of itself. Or perhaps orgasm denial…"

"Yes, please, no more orgasms tonight!" I said, giggling. Then he rose up above me, a gleam in his eye, a half-grin on his mouth.

"Ms. Bennet, I can see you need a lesson in proper submissive behavior." He reached down between my thighs to touch my clit and I gasped, cringing away from him, for I was still far too sensitive.

"No, please, Drake, don't…"

For whatever reason, my emotions were still far too close to the surface and my eyes filled with tears. I bit my lip and turned my face away. How could I move so quickly from laughter to tears?

"Shh," he said, rolling over, pulling me on top of him. He held my face in his hands, his thumb wiping my tears off my cheek. "I won't. But don't tell me what to do and what not to do. Don't even tell me what you want unless I ask you. It's not your place, Kate," he said and then added, "Katherine…" as if he, too, was having problems keeping to the terms of the agreement.

I nodded. "I'm sorry Master."

He pulled me down so that my head rested on his shoulder, one hand stroking my back gently, one hand stroking my hair. We remained like that for some time, until the strange sense of sadness drained out of me completely and a peace settled over me instead.

Soon, I dozed in his arms, immersed in the warmth of Drake's embrace, waking only briefly later, checking the alarm clock beside the bed. An hour had passed and Drake was covering us with the blankets. I closed my eyes once more.

 

I woke in the middle of the night and was alone in the bed. The clock radio read 3:30 a.m. and light from the moon filtered in through the sheer curtains onto the floor. I rose and peeked inside the bathroom, but it was empty. I cracked open the door leading to the living area and saw Drake sitting in the living room on a stool, his back to me, the acoustic guitar in his arms, headphones on. He was playing, but the sound was muted for the acoustic guitar was electric and was hooked into a small amp at his feet. I could hear the faint sounds of his fingers on the metal strings, sometimes sliding up and down, the sound of his fingers strumming or plucking strings.

I went up behind him while he played. He was wearing his jeans but was bare from the waist up. I glanced over his shoulder and saw he was playing the music from earlier that my father gave to his – Old Friends / Bookends. When I rested my hands on his shoulders, he startled a bit and stopped playing. I went around and stood in front of him while he removed his headphones.

"You woke up."

I nodded, my arms around my own waist, facing him, acutely aware of my nakedness.

He looked me up and down as I stood before him. "You are a vision of loveliness in the moonlight."

A blush rose up my neck and face at that and I tried not to cover up. "You couldn't sleep?"

He shook his head and strummed the guitar absently. "I woke up and my mind wouldn't stop. Sometimes, playing helps."

"You still won't play for me?"

He exhaled heavily.

"No, it's OK," I said, hurt. "I understand. Potatoes and meat…" I sensed that this was too much – asking him to play for me.

But then he unplugged the headphones and started to play, the guitar soft. After a brief musical intro, he started to sing, his voice surprisingly good, although soft.

Emotion welled up inside of me as I listened, the image of the old men sitting on a park bench like bookends so sad. I could hear the muted sounds of the city described in the lyrics, see the old men disappearing into overcoats, their collars up, their wisps of white hair blown by the wind.

I had to bite back tears, thinking of him losing his father, keeping all his old furniture and guitars here as a way to hold on. No matter that the relationship might have been strained or imperfect, to lose your father is to lose your rudder. This was Drake's way of preserving his memories – playing his father's music, using his old guitars, keeping this apartment, his father's old furniture.

I thought of his father and mine – how the two shared an uncommon hell over in Vietnam and how it must have cemented a bond between them despite the differences in their politics. How my father thought they would grow old and still be friends.

He finished and looked up at me, his eyes guarded. I went to him as he sat there with the guitar in his arms, his eyes on mine and took his face in my hands. I kissed him, my eyes wet.

"Thank you."

I left him alone with his music and went to the bathroom, unable to stay there with his face like that, so vulnerable, as if his heart was open for me to see right inside of him. He brought the music and photograph out specifically for me to see, but he didn’t show them to me, as if he had second thoughts. He let me find them. I wondered if he would have showed them to me on his own, or if he would have left them alone. I had the sense he would have left them if I hadn’t found them.

They were far too personal.

I held a wet washcloth to my eyes, breathing in deeply to control my emotions.

He wanted to keep me separate from the other parts of his life – his work, his charity, his family, his music. I was just to stay in the kink part. Now, he'd failed at all four. He let me see the photograph, the music from my father, let me hear him sing and play – it muddied the careful order he had established over things.

I wasn't sure I could do this – stay in this one corner of his life.

I heard him in the doorway to the bathroom. "Come back to bed," he said, his voice soft.

"Just give me a minute." I was barely able to speak from the emotion choking my throat.

Then, I felt him behind me, his arms slipping around my shoulders, pulling me against him. He said nothing, just rested his chin on the top of my head for a moment. Finally, he leaned down and kissed my shoulder before turning me around, embracing me.

"Sweet sweet Kate…" He tilted my head up and looked in my eyes, wiping moisture from my cheek. "Why the tears?"

I shook my head, breathing in, trying to control myself, but that song, although so simple, was so filled with meaning.

"It's so beautiful and so sad. They were old friends with so much history. My father…" I swallowed back emotion. "I can't imagine losing my father."

He nodded, his face emotionless. He brushed hair off my cheek. Then he led me back to the bedroom and pulled back the blanket, pointing to the bed. I crawled in and he followed me, spooning against me from behind, his arms around my waist.

"Close your eyes."

I exhaled and tried to relax, but my eyes wouldn't close and instead of sleeping, I watched the motes of dust drifting in the beam of moonlight filtering in through the curtains, thinking of old men sitting on a park bench in Central Park.