(Two book Special)

Note:  Two different story

The Complicated Family

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The Complicated Family

Erotica - Milf

Chapter 1

Matt Williams was supposed to be paying careful attention to the basketball game taking place on the court in front of him. That was, after all, why he was there. He was the school photographer at Jamestown High School and he needed to take photos of the game for the yearbook.

But, instead of watching the game, he was watching Mary Forrester, his best friend's mother. Her son Ricky, the Jamestown High School hoop squad's top scorer, was so good he had several college basketball coaches offering him scholarships.

Matt, who wasn't in the least athletically inclined, watched the object of his attention jump up and down, cheering for her son, whose team was on its way to another easy victory as he stood near the end of the gym, his camera in hand. "She's so gorgeous!" he thought as he gazed at his friend's attractive mother.

Although Matt's athletic ability was minimal, he made up for that lack with remarkable proficiency as a photographer. He had taken all the pictures for the school yearbook ever since his freshman year and, in addition, he earned extra money by selling some of his pictures to the local newspaper.

His ultimate fantasy, one he was sure he'd never get to live out, was to do a nude study of Mrs. Forrester. She would be an excellent subject. She was tall and full-bodied, and had a wild mass of shoulder-length black hair. Although she was strikingly beautiful, she acted as if she were totally unaware of how really attractive she was. Her modesty made her that much more appealing to Matt.

Tonight she had on a loose white sweater and snug jeans, an outfit that accentuated her finely curved body. While she continued to jump up and down and cheer, the smitten young man continued to find it hard to concentrate on the game. It happened every time he shot basketball pictures. In fact, anyone scrutinizing his photos would have found that Mary Forrester appeared in quite a few of them.

The final buzzer sounded and the crowd's delirious roar signaled their approval of the victorious end of another game. People began flowing down from the bleachers and out the doors.

Matt moved out onto the court, taking pictures of the celebrating team and excited cheerleaders as he did. He also managed to get a few shots of Mary Forrester's lovely face, which was flushed with joy and excitement.

Mary hugged and kissed her son, then she started for the doors at the end of the gym. She saw Matt, smiled, and waved. The young man's breath caught in his throat. If only her smile meant more than acknowledgment of the fact that he was her son's best friend.

The gym was almost empty, so Matt began to move toward the exit. Just as he reached the door, Ricky came out of the locker room, still in his basketball uniform. "Hey, Den!" he yelled, and walked in Matt's direction. "You need a ride home? Mom's waiting out front. You can ride home with us if you want."

"Ah...yeah," Matt replied. "Thanks. Hey, Rick, you played a great game!"

Ricky flashed him a "number one" sign and disappeared back into the locker room.

Matt's heart pounded as he walked out the front door of the school and looked for Forrester's car. He saw it and moved toward it. Mrs. Forrester saw him coming and again smiled and waved. Matt opened the car door and leaned inside.

"Rick said I could ride home with you," he told the comely woman.

"Of course you can, Matt," Mrs. Forrester said, her voice low and silken.

Matt felt a surge in his groin and quickly slid into the car and closed the door. He didn't want Mrs. Forrester to see his growing hard-on. Soft classical music came from the car's stereo.

"That was quite a game, wasn't it?" Mary Forrester said.

"Yeah...it sure was," Matt replied. "Rick was incredible." He held up his camera. "I...I got some terrific shots of him scoring." His throat was tight and his voice sounded raspy to him.

"You'll have to let me see them when you get them developed," Mary said. "I keep a scrapbook of all of Ricky's games. I have ever since he started playing basketball."

"Ah..." Matt swallowed hard. "I...I'll bring them over sometime. You...you can pick the ones you want."

"Great!" Mrs. Forrester said. "Ricky tells me you take wonderful pictures."

"I guess so," Matt said. He felt his face getting hot. "I...I, you know, just point the camera and push the button."

"I have an idea there's more to good photography than that, Matt," Mary said. "You seem to have the same kind of talent with a camera that Ricky does with a basketball."

Matt knew he was blushing furiously, but was saved having to respond by Ricky's arrival. His friend opened the door and got into the car, sandwiching Matt between him and his mother on the front seat of the big station wagon.

Matt slid over to make room for Rick and, as he did, his thigh came in contact with Mrs. Forrester's leg and his arm rubbed against hers. An electric current raced into his body from the points of contact with her and he found it hard to breathe.

He turned to his friend. "Ah...really great game, Rick," he said. "How many points did you get?"

"Thirty-five," Rick replied. "Hey, did you see the way Dianna Hillman was all over me at the end of the game?"

Dianna, one of the cheerleaders, was a very pretty girl. She was tall and attractive, but because her height made her as tall as a lot of the boys her age, she wasn't all that popular. Matt thought she was nice and she'd always been very friendly to him but, because he was painfully shy, he'd never asked her out. Actually, he'd never managed to work up the nerve to ask any of the girls in school out.

"She sure does go for you jock types," he observed.

"Yeah, if I remember right, she was all over Bert Page during football season," Rick said. Bert was the star quarterback of the football team.

"Richard Ethan Forrester!" Mrs. Forrester scolded, her voice sterner than Matt had ever heard it. "You know I don't like it when you talk about girls like that!"

"Aw, Mom," Ricky protested, "Dianna's just one of those kinda girls."

"Richard, that is enough of that kind of talk!" Mary said firmly. She turned onto the street where Matt lived and braked to a stop in front of his house. Rick got out to let his friend out.

"Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Forrester," Matt told his friend's mother.

Mary smiled at him. "Don't forget to bring those pictures over for me to look at some time, Matt," she said.

"I...uh, I won't," he stammered. He turned and started for his house.

"See you in school tomorrow, Den," Rick yelled, then he got back in the car.

Matt stood on his front porch and watched until the Forrester car turned a corner and disappeared. He touched his left side - the one that had touched Mrs. Forrester - sighed, then he walked into the house. His parents were in the living room, watching TV.

"Hi, hon," his mother said. "How was the game?"

"Yeah," his father added, "our team win again?"

"No sweat," Matt said. "We creamed them by thirty points."

"Hey, babe," Matt's father told his mother, "looks like our alma mater's going to the state championships again this year. Maybe this time we'll win."

"Yeah, Dad, maybe we will," Matt said. The team was favored to win the championship the year before, but lost the final game by one point. Their opponents made a comeback after Ricky sprained his ankle and missed the last five minutes.

Matt went upstairs to his bedroom. The bedroom adjoining his room in their big old house had been converted into a darkroom and photo lab. Matt's father had been disappointed when it became clear that his only male child wasn't very athletic, but he quickly became proud of his son's photographic achievements and supported him in any way he could. Now a person meeting Matt's dad couldn't escape without hearing about how his son was going to be the next Ansel Adams. Matt found it all a bit embarrassing.

He went into the darkroom, locked the door, turned off the lights, then threaded two of the five thirty-six exposure rolls of 35mm film he'd shot at the game into developing cans. That done, he turned on the light again, filled the canisters with developer, and set the timer.

While the film was being processed, Matt unlocked a special cabinet that only he had a key to and got out some photo albums. He opened them and slowly, lovingly, turned the pages. Picture after picture of lovely Mrs. Forrester greeted his adoring eyes. As he looked at them, Matt felt congestion forming in his groin. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

********************

A knock on the door startled him. He jumped, realizing he'd dozed off. He set the albums down on the counter and stood up.

"Who is it?" he called.

"Matt, it's Mary Forrester," came the soft reply.

Matt's heart leapt. He walked, stiff-legged, to the door and opened it. There she was, the object of so many of his fantasies.

Mary smiled at him. "Your folks said you'd be up here, and that it would be all right for me to come up," she said. "I had some time, so I thought now was as good a time as any to see those pictures you were telling me about."

"Ah...they...they aren't developed...yet," Matt stammered. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure she must be able to hear it.

Mary, smelling wonderfully of very expensive perfume, moved past him into the room. She still had on the white sweater and jeans she'd worn to the game. Matt watched her, transfixed.

"What are these?" the stunning woman asked while she picked up Matt's secret albums.

He went cold with dread. What would she say when she realized they contained only pictures of her?

Mrs. Forrester examined the albums, then she looked at him and smiled. "Why Matt!" she said softly, "All the pictures in these albums are of me!"

"Uh-huh," Matt murmured. What would she do now?

Mrs. Forrester put the albums down and walked across the room to where Matt stood. The young man was too scared to face her. He heard a rustle as she moved, then her soft, warm hands cupped his chin and lifted it. He was looking at that incredible face, those magnificent gray eyes. She smiled at him, a soft, inviting smile.

"Do you think I'm pretty, Matt?" she asked.

"Oh, yes!" Matt replied avidly.

"I'm glad you feel that way," Mary said. "And I think the pictures in those albums are wonderful. You deserve a reward." She covered his lips with hers.

Matt couldn't believe this was happening! The kiss began softly, then became more urgent. A kaleidoscope of sensations swept through the stunned young man. He was sure he'd faint when Mrs. Forrester's lips parted and her tongue brushed his lips softly. He felt his legs getting weak.

"I think you're a really sweet boy," Mrs. Forrester said when the kiss finally ended. "Would you like to take more pictures of me? Would you like to have me pose for you?"

Matt couldn't speak. He nodded furiously. Actually, he'd have rather kissed her again, but if she was offering to pose for him, he was more than happy to oblige her.

Mary gave him a stunning smile. "You know, I've always wanted to pose nude," she said, her eyes bright, "would you like that?"

Matt still couldn't talk. He nodded and reached for his camera.

Mrs. Forrester took hold of the hem of her sweater and slowly started to raise it, exposing the smooth skin of her softly rounded belly. Matt watched, his eyes bugging out of his head, and...

********************

A buzzer went off, and he jumped. "Don't worry, it...it's only the timer..." Matt muttered. He blinked and looked around, puzzled. Disappointment swept over him when he realized he was sitting in his darkroom, alone, with his private albums on his lap. He must have dozed off. The visit from Mrs. Forrester was only a dream. Disheartened, he got up and finished processing his film.

Chapter 2

While Matt was sitting in his photo lab, enjoying his fantasies about her, Mary Forrester was in her bedroom, getting ready for bed. When they got home, Ricky gave her a "good night" kiss and went to his bedroom, exhausted from the game. Her husband, Tom, was away on another of the long sales trips he'd been taking more and more of during the last few years.

Mary pulled her sweater over her head and laid it on a chair, then she sat down and slipped her boots off. That done, she shrugged out of her snug jeans. She stood, wearing just a plain white bra and high-cut bikini panties, gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door.

"I guess I don't look too bad for an old married lady," she mused while she ran her hands lightly over her body which really was in good shape. She worked very hard to keep in good shape. She reached behind herself to unhook her bra. The movement raised her full breasts delightfully.

Mary took the bra off and examined the breasts she'd exposed. They were large and the tips were covered with large, dark circles, which surrounded equally large nipples. They sagged a bit, but not too much. She hefted one breast, then the other, noting with satisfaction.

"You can barely see the stretch marks on them," she told herself. She'd nursed her son and hadn't ever been sorry she'd done that. She felt that was one of the reasons she and Ricky had always been closer. Next she peeled off the bikinis and examined her belly critically. As on her breasts, there were a few visible stretch marks on her abdomen, but they were faint. Her pubic hair, black and tightly curled, formed a lush triangular cover for her groin.

She slapped one thigh, then the other, noting with satisfaction that the smacks produced little jiggle. Her legs were strong and well-shaped, the result of long walks she took almost daily.

"But..." she thought, "if I look as good as I think I do, why am I here, alone?"

She gave it more thought. Her husband had been taking more and more business trips for the past year and was now to the point where he was gone at least two weeks out of every month. When she commented on how much he was gone, he angrily protested that the trips were an absolutely necessary part of his job.

But even when Tom was home, their relationship was strained. Their love-making, which had once been passionate and frequent, had declined to the point that when they did occasionally have sex, it seemed as if Tom was performing perfunctory act with little passion. Sometimes it seemed to Mary that her husband only made love to her because he felt he had to do his duty, not because he wanted her. She couldn't remember the last time their love-making had been really satisfying.

Mary sighed and opened the bedroom closet. Hanging in it were several nightgowns, a few of them sheer, lacy expensive items she'd gotten when she was first married. The rest were sensible, flannel ones. Those were the ones she'd been wearing lately.

A few years back, she was excited when Tom suggested that they get a king-sized bed. She thought it would give them lots of room to play and make their love-life better. And it seemed to, at first.

But, that initial resurgence of their love-life passed all too quickly and lately the huge bed had turned into a vast, lonely area in which Tom could pull away and hide from her. Most nights, he was so far over on his side and she might as well be in bed alone.

Impulsively, Mary selected one of the sexy, silken negligees and slipped it on. She shuddered with delight as the sensuous material slid down over her body, caressing her, clinging to her ample curves. She touched herself through the silken material and felt tingles of delight spreading through her.

"Oh, God!" Mary thought as she hugged herself. "I need to be made love to. Really made love to! I...I wish Tom would make love to me like he used to."

She walked to the bed, turned back the covers, slid in, and pulled them up over her, then she turned out the light. Lying alone in the darkness, she was acutely aware of the need gnawing at her insides, smoldering deep down in her body like a banked fire.

Her mind drifted. She remembered Ricky's comments about the cheerleader - Dianna, or something, her name was. That could have been her in high school. She never believed she was pretty, and her parents didn't have a lot of money like families of kids who belonged to the "in" crowd did. Without meaning to, she fell victim to the only assets she felt she had, her body and face. In the long run, it did her no good. A lot of guys took her out, but none of them ever went steady with her. She sat home, alone, the night of the prom, crying.

She studied hard though, and, somehow, managed to get into the local branch of the state college system, and there she met Tom. With him, things seemed different. He courted her, pursued her, and when at last they made love, it was fantastic. No man she'd ever been with had been interested in her satisfaction, just their own.

Back then, Tom was different. When they first met, he was a masterful lover who spent hours caressing her and touching her, giving her experiences she never knew existed. When he'd taken her the first time, she exploded with more wonderful feelings than she believed were possible.

She and Tom married at the end of her freshman year and Ricky came along six months later. Tom's parents helped them at first, until Tom got a start in business. Their life together was good in those early years, with Tom becoming more and more successful and Mary reveling in being a mother to their son.

Her reveries about the love-making she and her husband once shared only fanned the embers of need glowing deep in Mary's body. Without realizing she was doing it, she began to stroke and caress her breasts, and her body responded. Soon she was writhing and twisting as her hands moved over her flesh.

"Ohh!" Mary thought, "Has it come to this? Is this what my life is going to be like from now on? Am I condemned to lie alone in my king-sized bed, pleasuring myself?"

She didn't stop. It felt far too good, and she needed release badly, even if she had to give it to herself. She worked the hem of her nightgown up and her hands stole to the lush black forest between her spectacular thighs.

Soft groans escaped from her lips as her fingers explored the dampening flesh of her vagina. She touched her clitoris and groaned out loud, her hips thrust upward, and her back arched. One hand rapidly stroked the erect bud of her clit, giving her the thrills she needed so badly, while the other went to her breasts, squeezing them, pulling on the huge, turgid nipples.

"Yes! Yes!" she groaned, her muscles tensing, back arched, and then it happened; sweet, wonderful release swept over her, filling her with joy.

At last, spent, she relaxed on the bed. She felt less tense, but as nice as pleasuring herself had been, it wasn't the same as having a man who wanted her make love to her. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. At last, she fell asleep.

"Matt! Matt! Time to get up!" his mother yelled.

Rubbing his eyes, Matt sat up and looked at the clock on his dresser. Good. He had time to check the prints he'd made before he went to bed - prints of Mrs. Forrester at last night's basketball game.

He'd dreamt about her, and it was a delightful dream. Once more, she offered to pose nude for him, but when she was just about to remove her clothes, his mother called and woke him up. He was left with a raging hard-on.

"I'm up, Mom!" he yelled, and smiled when he realized his comment had more than one meaning. "Be down in a minute."

He got out of bed, his young cock sticking painfully out in front of him, and walked into the darkroom. As he gazed at the pictures of his fantasy lover, his hand wrapped around his swollen, fleshy pole and began to stroke it. Soon he was near the bursting point. He reached for a towel, wrapped it around his sensitive rod and, his eyes closed, came; groaning out his dream lover's name as pleasure shook his young body and globs of his seed pumped into the soft cloth.

Afterward, he showered and dressed, then he went downstairs, where his mother had breakfast waiting for him.

His Mom frowned when he walked into the kitchen. "You better hurry," she said, "you don't want to miss the bus."

Matt ate his breakfast quickly, grabbed his books and jacket, then headed out the door and across the lawn, arriving at the bus stop just as the bus did. The doors opened and he climbed aboard, looking for a place to sit. His stop was the last the bus made before school and only one seat was left, next to Dianna Hillman.

Matt smiled at Dianna and sat down. "Hi," he said.

"Hi, Matt," Dianna replied. "Saw you at the game last night. Did you get some good pictures?"

"Ah...yeah, some," Matt replied. He looked at Dianna. She was quite attractive. She had short, light-brown hair and a very pretty face. Her shape was good, too, except for the fact that she was nearly flat-chested. She had on a pink sweater with a big cowl neck, and a loose, midi-length white skirt.

"Have any problems with that social studies assignment?" Matt asked.

Dianna frowned and nodded. "A little," she replied. "I hate social studies. I don't know why we have to study all that ancient stuff, anyhow."

Matt smiled and said, "My dad says it's because those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it, or something like that."

Dianna gave him a funny look and asked, "What does that mean?"

Matt shrugged. "I'm not sure, either. I think it's just another one of those excuses adults give us to make us believe we ought to do our social studies homework, I guess," he said. "You know how adults are, they always have something that doesn't make any sense to say."

"Oh," Dianna said. She looked out the window, a little confused.

"Ah...would you like to go to a movie tonight?" Matt asked. What possessed him to ask her that, he never knew. But, he'd done it. Too late to take it back.

Dianna turned suddenly and looked at him, interest in her eyes. "Gee, I'd love to," she said. "But I...I told Ricky Forrester I'd go out with him tonight."

"Oh," Matt said, dejected.

"Look, Ricky and I, we're not going steady or anything," Dianna added quickly. "And I'm not doing anything tomorrow night."

"Ah, OK," Matt said. He sat up, brightening. "Yeah, tomorrow night, then."

"Great," Dianna said and smiled at him.

The bus turned into the school driveway. Matt was elated. He had a date, a real date, with Dianna Hillman. He'd show Ricky.

Actually, though he didn't think so, Matt was a reasonably attractive boy. He might not be physically adept, and not good at sports, but he still had what women might consider a good body, and he was good-looking, too. He was stronger than he realized, and it always bugged Ricky when Matt beat him at some feat of strength in Phys. Ed. Whenever that happened, Matt believed Ricky let him out-do him out of friendship, but that wasn't true at all.

Matt and Dianna walked into the school building. She was tall, almost as tall as Matt's six feet. They didn't look bad together.

"See you in social studies," Dianna said. She turned and headed for her locker.

"You bet," Matt replied and started down the hall toward his locker.

"Hey, Den," Ricky said, walking up behind Matt and giving him a playful punch. "Saw you come in with Dianna. You tryin' to beat my time?"

"Ah...um...I, ah, I got a date with her tomorrow night," Matt said.

"No shit?" Ricky said. He smiled. "Hell, old buddy, I'll try not to spoil her for you tonight, then." He gave Matt another playful punch. "Gotta go. See you in English."

Matt wasn't sure why, but he was bugged by his friend's comments. He and Ricky had been best friends since kindergarten; nothing had ever come between them, not even pressure from the guys on the basketball team who constantly bugged Ricky to stop hanging around with "the camera nerd," as they called Matt behind his back.

Matt felt guilty about his anger, shook off the feeling, and headed for class. He wasn't sure why Rick's comment bugged him so much.

"Are you all right, Matt?" Miss Farwell, the English teacher, asked.

Matt looked up. She was standing next to his desk. She'd called on him twice and he hadn't heard her.

"I...I guess so, Miss Farwell," Matt replied, blushing. After that, he forced himself to pay closer attention.

Dianna wasn't on the bus after school. Matt figured she either had cheerleading practice or, maybe, Rick had driven her home. As he was thinking about it, Rick's beautifully restored '69 Dodge Charger roared by the bus. Matt saw Dianna in the passenger seat.

"I'll try not to ruin her for you." Matt remembered what Ricky had said.

"Damn him!" he thought.

Chapter 3

After Ricky left for school, Mary took a shower and got dressed. The print-decorated man-tailored blouse and gray slacks she chose looked terrific on her, but she wasn't aware of that. Then she straightened up the house. Tom was due home today, and Mary made a practice of having the house look extra-good when her husband got back from a trip. The phone rang. She walked over and picked it up.

"Mary," her husband's voice came through the receiver. "Honey, I hate to do this, but I have to extend my trip through the weekend."

"Oh, Tom," Mary said. She couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice. She planned to make an all-out effort to revive their relationship this weekend. "Do you really have to?"

"Afraid so," he replied.

In the background, Mary thought she heard something, like a feminine giggle. "Tom...where...where are you?" she asked.

"Ah, I'm in one of my client's offices," her husband said quickly. "It's, ah, one of the secretary's birthdays, and the other girls are, um, teasing her."

"I'll bet!" Mary thought. All of a sudden fears about what Tom might really be doing on those trips rushed from the far corner of her mind, where she had banished them because they were too painful to consider.

"Look, Mary," Tom said. "I have to get going. I'll see you next week."

"When will you get home?" Mary asked.

"Probably Tuesday," he said.

"Tom...I...I love you," Mary said softly.

"Yeah, me, too," her husband said. Then he was gone.

Mary felt tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't understand what was happening to them. Their marriage seemed to be coming apart at the seams. Tom was gone all the time, and when he was home he ignored her. The result was that she was lonely. Ricky's presence helped, but he'd be going away to school next fall. What would she do then?

One of Mary's unwritten rules was, "If you need a lift, get your hair done." Pixie McGill, the girl who did Mary's hair, was a divorcee and had a bit of a loose reputation, but Mary liked her. Pixie always seemed to be so up and happy.

Pixie had planned to take the afternoon off, but when she got the call from Mary - who she considered one of her favorite customers and who sounded upset - she told Mary to come by at one.

Hairdressers, like barbers and bartenders, often act as confessors for their clients. Pixie, because she was such a good listener and never passed on what she heard, was one of the best. "I wonder what's bugging Mary?" Pixie mused as she worked on her current customer, who was babbling about her Aunt Alice, or Agatha, or whatever.

Mary, meanwhile, went back to her housework with new vigor. The brief phone chat with Pixie had improved her mood, and knowing she'd get to spend more time talking with her friend later gave her something to look forward to.

At one, Mary drove her big station wagon into the parking lot in front of Pixie's salon. She was surprised no other cars were there.

"You weren't planning to take the afternoon off, were you?" Mary asked when she got inside.

"Don't worry about it," Pixie said. "I had a feeling you needed someone to talk to, so here you are."

"Look, I don't want to spoil your day off," Mary said. She turned and began to leave.

Pixie grabbed her arm. "Take off your coat and get in the chair. We ought to get started," the hairdresser said.

She led Mary to the special sink used for shampooing customers, sat her down in the chair, and put a protective cover over her.

"Talk to me, Mary," Pixie said. She had her customer lay back and began to wet down her hair.

Mary felt herself relaxing as Pixie worked shampoo into her hair, filling it with luxuriant white foam. Her scalp tingled delightfully.

"Well," Mary said, "Things aren't going too well at home..." She was surprised at how easily all of her troubles came out once she started talking.

Finally Pixie finished rinsing the lather out of Mary's hair, had her sit up, and wrapped a towel around her customer's head.

"You know, if I was in that situation..." Pixie commented as they walked to another chair, where Pixie would cut Mary's hair and style it, "...if it was me, I'd probably find someone who would give me what I needed."

"You...you mean you...you'd take a...a lover?" Mary was startled. "I...I could never...ever do that."

"I'm not telling you to do it, or not to do it," Pixie said. "I'm just saying what I would do. I'd go out and find me a nice, horny young guy who could screw me silly."

Mary felt her cheeks get hot and knew she was blushing. "I've never...done...that, had sex...with...with anyone but Tom since we got married," she stammered.

"From my point of view," Pixie said as she clipped a little off the back of Mary's hair, "monogamy is highly over-rated. But that's me. Like I said, I'm telling you what I'd do. You have to do what you think is best for you."

Despite her misgivings, Mary did find the idea of an affair exciting. Still, she couldn't picture herself going to bed with anyone but Tom. She'd come a long way from the way she'd been in high school. She had a good reputation now, a good life, and she didn't want to do anything that would cause her to lose it. "I just couldn't do it," she thought at last. "I just couldn't. I have too much to lose."