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"I'm sorry, Alan, I thought you knew. Um, I think maybe I'll give you some time," she said softly and got up and left me in the conference room, surrounded by work sheets and an aching, confused heart.I just sat there for maybe a half hour, then got up and went down the elevator and walked the downtown streets of Philadelphia in a daze."Raped," I thought. So violent, I really didn't know any details and didn't want to know them. Whatever happened, it must have been horrible. No wonder she so mistrusted men. Who wouldn't? It was such a simple yet, terrible explanation of her avoidance of any physical, sexual contact since we'd started dating.I think I realized then that Eve Mascotti was special to me, very special. That I loved her and wanted to be with her, yes, for a lifetime. I knew I wanted her to be my wife and I wanted to be her husband, I knew that now and could now understand so much that had been a mystery before.That's also when I decided to let her set the pace for anything. I don’t appreciate people being put down so I retaliated by starting to flirt with Cassy, almost as a form of defense for her. At first it was subtle, then as time passed I noticed she was responding. Truly responding. This has an obvious effect on a young man. Each interaction became bolder, we became closer, our body language changed. Where once her door was always closed and often locked, Cassy regularly now left it ajar. It was only her and I in the top half of the house most of the time and she trusted me, as I her. Where once she’d shower and get dressed in the bathroom, she’d now shower and walk back to her room wrapped only in her towel. Sometimes she’d even stop at my door, draped only in her towel and chat for a minute before moving on. Her towel barely covering her tight little ass. She was a very shy girl and the whole thing was played out over time. After a shower one hot day in summer I walked past her room, her door ajar enough to see her laying on her bed, naked.
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