Emily’s husband had provided enough for her in his will to allow her to keep her little greenhouse behind the shop operable and to live in the residence that was part of the shop. The front of the shop became almost obscured over the years, with tree branches drooping in the yard between the shop and the street out front. The concrete driveway had broken up little by little until it looked more like cobblestones and loose rock. Next door in a house slightly smaller than the flower shop lived Emily’s best friend, Wilson Greer, who preferred to be called “Willie.” Widowed himself, Willie was impressed with Emily’s devotion to growing flowers and donating them and plants to people in the local hospital, most of whom she had never met. He and Emily became close friends in no time. On one particular afternoon, Emily was leaving the back of the shop, walking towards the greenhouse in back when she heard a loud clanging noise next door. She rushed across Willie’s back yard and knocked. ”“What did you say?” Jane asks excitedly.“Well, I felt I couldn’t refuse,” Ursula answers. “It felt like a big sexual magnet was drawing me in.”“What?” the girl says curiously. “You mean Litzy?”“No,” Ursula quickly says, “the part about her people being tribal. I have always been turned on whenever I hear about people being tribal—the drumming and chanting. I imagine people dancing around naked, rubbing against one another and having sexual orgies.” She can feel her nipples becoming erect and push against her dress. “I even began to dream about it.”“That sounds like it could be a lot of fun,” Jane says with this hypnotic, faraway look in her eyes.Ursula continues. “So I went with her when the first break came. An airplane and jeep ride later, I was standing deep in the mountains. The air was cool and crisp, like being someplace where man hasn’t dared step before.”“Did you go with Litzy?” Jane inquires.Ursula shakes her head. “No, Litzy went ahead of me. She said she had to clear.
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