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A card, to ask me if I was alright. She cares after all. She cares about me now. She's accepting our love. I knew she had to. But I needed more. A lot more.It was a Thursday. An autumn evening. I felt anticipation. I planned this for so long. So long...She passed by my house as I was "tending to my garden" near my backyard. I waved to her and "fell" over my rake. She looked scared, frightened that I may be hurt. She came to help me, out of concern and love. Yes, that was it. LOVE. I told her that I may have broken my ankle. I needed her to call for help. I told her to go into my kitchen and use the phone on the wall to call 911. She went inside. But as soon as she walked past my doorway I ran in after her and stopped her. She was petite, so small. She needed me to take care of her. She wanted me to. She loved me. I knew others wouldn't understand, so I locked the door, that way they wouldn't be able to tear us apart. I unplugged the phone in the wall before all of this anyway, so. So stupid. So blind. Please, forgive me, my Kitten. I love you,” I was repeating myself—babbling. A light snapped on in my head. Dad warned me months ago that forgiveness would be the hardest part. Sure, I forgave her for leaving. I forgave her for whatever happened with the Slimy Dick. For walking out on us. But that one night when she’d knelt in front of me, I’d never let go. I’d withheld her pet name ever since—never used it again. Cruel. Vindictive. Punishing her. And myself. Stupid fucking son-of-a-bitch! My special pet name for her. “My Kitten. Oh, Kate, I love you. I’m so sorry.”“Do you forgive me, Tony?”“Forgive you? Yes, oh, yes. But how can I forgive myself? It’s been a year. I’ve been so selfish. I forgive you. Please, forgive me.”“Yes, I forgive you. I forgive you and I love you and I don’t ever want to go through another year like this one. Please love me, Tony. Make love to me.”I didn’t just make love to her; I worshipped her. As busy as my hands and lips.
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He asked some questions about my sex life, symptoms, whether I used condoms etc and I remember he wore latex gloves when he placed me in stirrups, legs wide apart and mid-air. With a speculum he opened my vagina and examined me. He reassured me there seemed to be nothing to worry about and asked me to kneel on the bed with my backside in the air, my front bent down. What we now call the cat position in my Pilates class. His fingers went into me and he only probed and looked for a few seconds but something must have alerted him to what was happening – either I pushed back onto his hand or I let out a moan or both but he said, very calmly, “I’ve probably finished here but do you want me to stay like this?” and I managed to gasp “Oh god, yes …” and he held his hand firmly against me, his fingers not moving but inside me and I had a shuddering orgasm, and as my vaginal muscles spasmed, I knew I was crushing his hand very, very tightly. I was almost crying with the incredible sensation,.

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