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There’s enough guilt to go round.” There was a long pause. I stared out of the window at the fields flashing past. “Do you think we will get over it?” I asked through my drying tears. Tom didn’t reply straight away. “Do you want to?” He eventually countered. I nodded emphatically, adding: “If you can forgive me.” Tom went silent for what seemed like a long time but can only have been a couple of minutes. “I can if you can.” He eventually whispered, raising my hand to his lips. I dissolved in tears. Later on in the journey we pulled off the motorway and stopped for lunch in a market town nearby. While Tom took the kids to McDonalds – something I would never have allowed in normal circumstances – I found a medium sized pharmacy and obtained the morning after pill, not without more than a few white lies. We returned home with a rather lighter atmosphere in the car. Lisa called me on my mobile that evening but I didn’t take the call. She left a voicemail message hoping we were both OK. "Unexpected, maybe," You're telling me..." and the girl turned back to tidying, reaching uphigh this time to return a B-Movie flying saucer to the top shelf. Evenwobbling on tiptoes, he couldn't manage. And like earlier in the morning(a relative age ago), Jon leant in to help. Up so close, Tina's nostrilsfilled with his musk (boy soap, sweat and tea), the warm flesh of his armbrushed her cheek and that familiar flutter whipped and thrashed beneathhis belly. But this time, even as Jon moved away, it didn't stop. Theflutter became a thrum in the muscles of his thighs, his belly. Thesemuscles tightened and twitched of their own accord, expectantly.A gaspcaught in his throat, turned into a girlish grunt of surprise. Themuscles quivered in synch, shaking so hard his knees almost gave.He blinked, carefully, as the world blurred and swam back into focus. Hecould hear something on the periphery of his senses, just out of earshot."Tina..." repeated Jon, voice heavy with concern. "Tina: are.
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