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The lectures were aimed at the general public and never had 'visual aids.' Depending on the speaker, there might be someone from the appropriate provincial ministry. There was sherry before and tea and coffee afterwards. Suits and ties were in order. He'd gotten the pr/invitation. It contained the date, time, place, my name and title, about two sentences from my official CSIRO bio, and the title of my talk.I thanked Des. "What do you think, guys, should we blow them away?" How?" We could drum up a fancy sort of audience. Maybe some politicians or military. Maybe some business folk. Not the drudges the Dean expects. To celebrate April Fool's." Hilarious. Could you pull it off?" I'll see. How about a test? Then we'll talk depending on the result."I went into my office, fished among my assorted jottings and came up with Commander Evans' card. I called the printed number. I told the 'female voice' that I wished to talk to the Commander and was told that the Commander was very busy and. The grey in your hair, the tiny wrinkles at the corner of your eyes, the lobes of your ears. You take in my chest, my breasts. I won't let you get far enough from me that you can see my hips, even though I know that's what you want most at the moment, because I can't stand not having my arms wrapped all the way around your body. But I have to touch your skin. My hands find your hips, the waist of your jeans, the soft flesh of your sides. Your face disappears for an instant as your shirt comes up over your head and vanishes. I can't believe I'm here as my eyes linger on your chest. I swear I can hear your heart pounding.My cheek on your shoulder, I breathe you in. I taste you. My hands grip your arms. I touch the place on your shoulder where I know you have a tattoo, although I have still never seen it in person. I look up and you kiss me with such force that I gasp. My toes curl up in my shoes, and I press myself into you. My arms around your neck. A break in the kiss. .
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