When I turned around Duncan had a flashlight and turned it on, aimed at the floor. I gasped in horror. “The way that’s all spread around, it looks like a murder scene,” I stammered out. “Can we let it wait until morning?”

Duncan yawned. “Yes, I think we have more interesting things to do until then.”

We went upstairs to the shower. The cats, being too full, did not follow.

At least we had the flashlight, which was good because we could avoid stepping in the cat barf that decorated the stairs. I almost fell twice but Duncan put his arm around me and saved me. I kissed him the second time, standing right on the squeaky step third from the top, the one that always gave me away when I’d try to sneak back upstairs after being out half the night, if I was too plastered to climb the tree. Or too sober to forget I had a key to the kitchen door.

His kiss made the stair squeak beneath my feet, and I made some kind of happy noise myself. While his lips devoured me, I ripped off my shirt, and started to undo my jeans. I would have stripped right there but Duncan, who was smarter than me, took my hands in his until I thought my chest would burst, or something might anyhow. I didn’t think of handcuffs or restraints, but those hands, and oh my God. Those hands on my wrists. Well, okay, handcuffs might not be a bad idea.

We stumbled into the shower like we were one huge, awkward three hundred pound person or a huge bear, not even a human bear, but a woods-type bear. Duncan set the flashlight on the sink with the light aimed at the ceiling, and then proceeded to undo my jeans with help from my dick. As far as I was concerned, I was still strongly into this whole can’t-move-my-hands thing and just stood there, wriggling when things got tickled. When he was near my ear, he whispered things like, ‘Wait now, just wait,’ and ‘Do you like this?’ and I replied with assorted gurgles, nods and moans.

The water somehow got set to a nice warm temperature and all the clothes somehow got strewn around the floor. We left the door open and stepped into the oversized walk-in shower with the two streams of water. I drowned, I mean, I could have and wouldn’t have minded. Those magic hands were on me, everywhere, and his lips, and I’m not sure I even moved. Somehow soap and shampoo came and went. Somehow things got rinsed off. Somehow -- what, there weren’t any towels? And I had no idea of where they were kept, even though I had known this for decades. I think I was quite capable of steam drying though. Duncan laughed.

I think I fell in love with him, rather than just in lust, at that moment, at how he was able to cope with any situation and make it funny. At how he could be amused instead of critical or disgusted. When it occurred to me how much I valued this, I started to cry, thinking of how I had really never known this before in my life. I felt like sixteen tons had been lifted off my shoulders, and that light and sparkly things had entered my body and lit up my soul. This must be love, I thought, true love, true acceptance. Warts and all. I wanted this for the rest of my life.