Mattie was a looker, in both senses. He was amazin’ly handsome, with thick curly brown hair bleached tan at the ends by salt and sun, pale blue eyes... a straight, thin aristocratic nose, the kind of chin which still looks good even when you get jowls, a dancer’s neck column, shoulders like Superman, and pecs to match. He was wearin’ white nylon rugby shorts with short legs, the kind which let me see just how good his legs were – thighs firm and muscular, sprinkled with dark hair, calves sweetly. This time I could see her eyes and they twinkled with inner amusement when she noticed my fascinated stare.I blushed when she winked and deliberately bit into the toast he offered her.I couldn't stop my smile. But, I couldn't help wondering, either: Five years I'd been an observer of their ritual -and I didn't even know their names. Would I ever know the story behind their morning toast?I couldn't stand it any more. This place is driving me insane. They won't let me leave, they won't let me do. More

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