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uneventful Saturday afternoon, voiced a request that Mary Ellen leave it to her in her will and was more than a little surprised when the woman who loved her so unconditionally arranged a week or so later for the entire bedroom suite to be delivered to her apartment.   Any attempt to return such a gift given in love would be useless and so she graciously accepted the goods.
    Tamsen stretched, overwhelmed by an immense sense of gratitude, lying there in her grandmother's bed, listening to the birds beginning their day and contemplating the start of her own.  
    How simple their lives were; not for them the worry of where the next worm came from, or where they would find the right building material for their nests.   Did sparrows get migraines fretting about whether or not they'd have somewhere safe to sleep at night, she wondered.   No, they just opened their eyes and trusted - singing, she imagined, for the pure joy of being alive another day.   Knowing all their needs would be taken care of.  
    This kind of faith Tamsen carried with her often, but some days she found it elusive.  
    Stretching again and reveling in the feel of the cool cotton sheets on her naked body, she noticed the sensation of slightly rough weave from the top sheet across her nipples.   Still present was the faint scent of chamomile oil she'd dripped on the edge of her pillowslip to help her sleep the night before - it always reminded her of Juicy fruit chewing gum.
    Tamsen ran her fingernails up the length of her stomach and goose bumps prickled her flesh in their wake.   A sudden vision of Matthew came to her; she relaxed and played the mental game of undressing him in the cinema of her mind, fingers exploring intimate parts of her flesh as she surrendered herself.  
    Tamsen sighed. Nothing so perfect as the fantasy of vicarious lovemaking.  

    Matthew's day began with an aching sensation in his groin, almost like lover's balls.   A ridiculous notion since he'd been nowhere near a woman in months.   Angie had seen to that, thank you very much.   He'd rather be in an arena with a Rottweiler than take on another woman at the moment - so why had Miss Fish caught his attention?  
    He opened his eyes gingerly, hoping it was still the middle of the night, but no such luck; the luminous digits on his alarm clock glared 5:45, a full half-hour before the alarm usually woke him.   What the hell was going on?   He must have had some sort of nightmare.
    Matt rolled onto his back and groaned out loud; pain wasn’t a welcome visitor at this hour.   Trying to ignore the discomfort, he turned his mind to drifting back into unconsciousness for another half hour, then was jolted from his stupor by the sudden vision of Tamsen.  
    No wonder he'd woken up feeling as if he were trying to sleep on a baseball bat.   He must have been having some sort of teenage dirty dream about her.   How bizarre.  
    True, he found her attractive.   Matthew snorted - who was he kidding?   He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since coffee yesterday.   It was frightening, a little obsessive even, and he didn't like that.   Being out of control didn't suit him, especially over a woman – he'd been burned too many times before.
    Another attempt to settle back under the covers thwarted, he decided there was little hope of getting any more sleep.   With a huge and heavy sigh he threw the crimson duvet cover back from his futon and drove himself to the adjoining bathroom.   May as well get the morning ablutions underway, he thought miserably.   The day ahead loomed long and large, the only respite another meeting with Miss Fish.    
    He hated conference calls at the best of times – and old man Sheldon would likely try and drag him through the hoops.   Then there was Tim's contract and lease, which he’d spent the better part of last night digesting and now had to go over with him.   As usual Tim had managed to persuade Danielle to give him an appointment