Ruth stood up. It's going to happen sooner or later, she thought, the exhilarating feeling overwhelming her entire body. Her nipples pressed against the flimsy see-through fabric of her nightie, exciting her even further.

She walked back to Bill's door and listened. He was moaning. Very softly. Ruth could just about hear him. Now was the time for her to act…

She knocked on his door and the moaning stopped.

"Bill," she whispered. She cleared her throat and called out louder: "Bill? Are you alright?"

She opened his door and peered inside. Moonlight filtered through the window next to his bed, casting ghostly light over him. He was under the sheets. Ruth walked to the foot of his bed. Bill sat up, a startled look on his face.

She sat on the edges of his bed and impulsively ran her fingers through his long blond hair, now dampened with his sweat. "I thought I heard you… it sounded like you weren't feeling well," she said, her voice hoarse with mounting emotion. She could feel herself starting to tremble again. Keep calm, she told herself. Don't frighten the boy. He trusts you.

"I-I'm fine, Aunt Ruth. You-you must have heard something else," he stammered nervously. She could see the guilty look in his blue eyes.

She caressed his cheek, his neck. "You feel warm…" Her hand went inside his pajama top. The flat of her palm rubbed gently over his chest. "You're sweating. Here, take this off. You can't sleep with wet pajamas. You'll catch cold."

"No, Aunt Ruth, it's-it's okay. Really…" His voice faded as she pulled down the covers to his lap and began unbuttoning his pajama top.

"You must have had a bad dream," she said soothingly, pulling off the damp top.