The first kids of the summer are coming tomorrow!!!!, I texted Amelia.

That's not all that's going to come this summer, I imagine.

I laughed, called Amelia, and updated her on the new parts of Will that I had experienced, including the physical part (meaning, obviously, my kiss with him in the barn). I even told her that I had made the decision to get busy with him at the first opportunity. She heartily approved. I knew you didn't need a girlfriend to agree with you about a guy, but it sure was soothing when she supported you like that.

It had been my experience that normally, when I kissed a man, I wanted to kiss him again, and, perhaps, if I liked him, go further. Since my fumbling high school days, I really hadn't had any bad kisses, although there had been some that had felt more like obligations rather than gifts of intimacy. Still, though, I had a good and active sex life, although no one had thrilled me in a long time.

But with Will? This kiss had me reenacting it in my head the whole fucking day. I couldn't think of anything else. It was like kissing him was this key to opening him up. In the short period that I had known him, he had been quite reserved, and, well, an asshole, but it seemed like there was more to him. His spirit was so hidden, but there was something passionate under the surface that I wanted to experience again, and in full detail. He sure flared up immediately when I gave him the opportunity. I had never experienced anything like that: being with someone so ardent.

It was fucking hot and I wanted more. Now.

Instead of going back to find him in the barn, however, I spent the rest of the day attempting to work in the office, which in reality meant that I was daydreaming about Will's body, and its various parts, until it was time for dinner, when I packed up and walked to the chow hall.

Part of me was apprehensive about seeing him at meal times. How do you act, in public, with a new guy that you work with, when you were almost in his pants a few hours before? But mostly, I was simply curious as to how he would react and this amused me to no end.

He was already seated when I got there, so, like the other meals, I sat next to him, but this time, when I brushed up against him as I sat down, instead of flinching, he pressed his thigh into mine and kept it there for the entire meal. I liked this. I could feel his warmth and smell his clean smell. Let's just say I wasn't too hungry for my dinner and was a wee bit distracted throughout the entire meal. Nevertheless, dinner conversation was active and involved discussing plans for the visually impaired students coming the next day.

"We're going to be focusing on tactile sensations for the participants," I told the table. Staff members before me had thoroughly set up the Headlands Program for assisting with all sorts of disabilities. Besides various games, CDs, and training materials, there was even a three-dimensional map of the horse arena so that the students could explore it with their hands before they got on the horses, so that they would know what to expect. I couldn't wait to assist the participants in experiencing ranch life, which was rapidly growing on me. After I talked about the different things the students were going to do this week, I concluded, "This is going to be a week of waking up all of our senses."

Will stifled a smile and put his hand over his mouth.

Dirty birdie.

Damn, if I didn't like it. A lot.

At the end of the meal, as everyone else picked up their dishes and went to bus them to the kitchen, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I'll wake up your senses this week if you wake up mine."

He looked me in the eyes, and said, in a low voice, "Deal."

And then Janine and Stephanie came back over to me and the three of us walked back to the bunkhouse, leaving Will to go to his. As we headed up the steps, I turned and watched Will go up to his ranch house, alone, and suppressed the urge to chase him down and tackle him.

My dreams that night were spicy, to say the least.

The following morning, I woke up before the triangle, because I was so excited to meet the kids. A surge of adrenalin propelled me out of bed and got me to breakfast early. I took my coffee to go and set up for the kids while I anxiously waited for their arrival. When the vans pulled up with the kids, followed by a pick up truck with their luggage, I ran out to meet them.

"Hello, and welcome to the Headlands Program," I enthused, as the six participants and their parents or adult leaders made their way out of the vehicles. "I'm Marie and I'm here to make sure you all have a wonderful time. I'm so glad you're here. Now, my first question when I got here was, is there somewhere to pee?"

There were a few laughs.

"I'm going to go to each of you and introduce myself, individually, and then we'll get you situated with the bunks. Then we'll go and meet some animals after you have had time to settle in, get your bearings, and make yourselves comfortable."

I walked up to each of the six participants individually, who ranged in ages from 9 to 18, and shook their hands and talked with them, and let them touch me, if they wanted to. One participant in particular, a 17 year old girl named Clarissa, had long dark blonde hair that was plaited into dozens of braids, going down her head into rows with beads on the end. When I met her, she turned towards me, held out her hand, and said, "Hair sings to me. Let me feel your hair and I will tell you what it sounds like." I bent and put my head in her hands and she sang a clear, high, note. Then she told me, "Oh, your hair is fun. We are going to have a good time."

With these visitors, the pace was slowed down from my enthusiasm that morning. We took our time. We sat at picnic tables that I had stocked with supplies. I described the layout of the ranch to them. Using mylar sheets and a plastic stylus, I drew a raised map of the surrounding compound and presented it to each student so that they could feel it with their fingers, and sense what we were talking about before they experienced it for real. They described for me the sensations they felt that were new to them: the scent of the farm and the animals, the wind and sun on their faces, the sounds of the horses whinnying.

We made our way, with care, to the bunkhouse, and took our time setting everyone up. I had previously learned that visually impaired people have methods of keeping track of things so that they can be independent as much as possible. For example, with paper money, since all the bills are the same size, one friend of mine who was blind would have the twenties folded differently than the tens, and the fives, and so on, so that he could tell by feel how much money he had in his wallet. We implemented similar systems in the bunkhouse, with placement of gear and bedding, and showing the location of the bathroom. I was impressed, once I realized that there was braille on all the signs in the compound. This place was set up for helping people.

By lunch time, we walked everyone over to the chow hall, and Cookie boomed a greeting and told anyone with allergies or eating restrictions to come talk to him, but otherwise to enjoy the food.

After lunch, we headed over to the horses, and Stephanie took over. This first day, we were not going to have any of them ride; we just wanted to get them comfortable with the environment and the animals. She went through the program with the participants.

None of them had ever ridden a horse before, and I was impressed by their bravery. There were a lot of people who were scared to ride horses, even being able to see what they are getting into. Horses are big animals, and they can feel overwhelming, although the horses that were available to participants in the program were especially mellow and patient.

Each participant was individually introduced to their horse and spent time running their hands over their noses, feeling their manes, and touching the flicking muscles on their necks. Clarissa looked like she was in ecstasy when she ran her fingers up her horse's soft face, as she sang a low note, which apparently corresponded with the sensation of the horsehair, and giggled when she felt the horse's warm breath on her fingers.

After each participant had a chance to meet his or her horse and get acquainted with them and the space, we headed back to the bunkhouse for some "me time" before dinner, which was time for listening to music or audio books, resting, phone calls, showering, or other individual activities. As I walked with the group back to the bunkhouse, I saw Will, off to the side, sweaty, take off his shirt and wipe off his face, his glorious torso on display, basically just for me. He saw me and grinned, and I knew the show was on purpose.

I would have to think of a way to get him back.