I am at Bill C's house. He has a three-year-old daughter and a twelve-year-old son. We are working on a project so I am staying at his house for a few days, a few nights. His daughter becomes ill. It's something unusual so at first they don't believe me when I tell them that I suspect something is wrong with her. He has a live-in nurse, and even she didn't take me too seriously when I first told her the little girl wasn't well. The nurse's room is in a different part of the house than mine, closer to the daughter's room. Whenever the daughter gets upset because she is feeling worse, I am the only person she wants much to do with. It seems that I am the only person who is able to calm and comfort her. One time she is telling me, as best a toddler can, that she had a sore on her genitals but that it had gone away. I'm not sure why, but I thought it was a blister. I picked her up to carry her to the nurse's room. As we were walking I told her that we needed to tell the nurse about it. She began to cry a little bit, very softly. I assured her that it was okay and that nothing was wrong. I tried to explain to her that the nurse needs to know these things so she can help her get better faster. She stopped crying. When we talked to the nurse she said it was normal for this illness and nothing to be concerned about. I took the daughter back to her bed and started to leave. She started again to cry softly. I walked back to her and asked her what was wrong. She said she didn't want me to leave. I told Bill C I would just move my things to her room and just stay in her room. I was concerned that I wouldn't get much work done this way, as I had been doing most of my work in my bedroom. But comforting the little girl was my first priority, and being there for her. I thought it was especially important since I was the one she seemed to want with her most often. Bill C had someone put a second bed in the daughter's room, parallel to each other. The two beds sat right next to each other with no space between them. Her bed is a little higher than mine. I'm standing there holding the little girl and rocking back and forth, from side to side, on my feet. I tried to get her to rest her head on my shoulder, by trying to gently guide it down to my shoulder while saying, it's okay. Just lay your head down and go to sleep. Her whole body tensed up, preventing me from lowering her head to my shoulder. She didn't want to sleep. I went back to the nurse's room and told her about this. That concerned the nurse. The nurse threw six or seven balls of different colors and sizes into an adjacent room, hoping the little girl would go after them. I didn't like this as it seemed to much like asking a dog to play fetch. The little girl immediately wanted me to let her down on the floor and she ran into the other room after the balls. She picked up a ball and ran to the doorway and threw it to me. Bill C was standing in the room where the balls were so I thought it was odd that she would throw them to me instead of to him. She did this with each of the balls. Apparently this alone was significant to the nurse but I don't know why. I'm holding her again, talking to her softly. Bill C comes up behind me and puts his arms around both of us. He leans his face in close to my right cheek and kissed me on the cheek. After that he doesn't move away, and whispers that he loves me. I think this is all bizarre. I pulled away to the left, as much as I could with his arms so snugly around us both, and asked him what he said, in a very low tone as I didn't want to further disturb his daughter by letting her know I was feeling bothered. He said the same thing again, still in a very soft whisper. Even though I couldn't hear him very clearly I was sure that is what he said. I put the little girl in bed and then I get in my own bed, laying in the middle. Bill C comes in and lays down next to me, so I move over just a little, not wanting him to think he was welcome there but more feeling forced to move over some. He decides that he is going to sleep in there too. I'm thinking that between the two of them I'm not going to get any sleep at all. Between the fact that I don't sleep well when someone else is in bed with me and my concern and caring for the little girl I was thinking that I wasn't going to get any sleep at all. Bill C is tossing and turning. I finally turn to my left to face him and ask him what the problem is, why he is being so restless. He tells me that it is just very hard to be in bed with someone that you want to make love to and not be able to. He is implying that he can't because of his daughter, not because of a wife. I'm thinking that I don't want to get involved with him that way. He is laying on his back so I had to lean over the top of him and put my face pretty close to his so I can hear him. When he finishes we kiss. I'd like to think I didn't initiate it but it seems as though I did. I hear the little girl begin to cry softly. I turn back to her and ask her what is wrong. She says that she wants me to sleep with her. At first I'm thinking that I can't do much more, but I tell her I will move closer to her. I move to the edge of my bed where I can lay on my left side and put my right hand on her. This comforts her and she goes back to sleep. Bill C is still in my bed and moves closer to me. He is laying on his left side as well. I occasionally feel his body touch my lower back when he moves in his sleep. I know he isn't doing it intentionally. The next day I decide to help clean up after a meal. I end up doing a bunch of dishes by hand, and by myself. I ask him a couple of times why he isn't helping. He makes some off-handed remark about not needing to or there being no reason for him to help. He thinks it is perfectly fine for me to be doing this and doing it alone because of gender. I find this very frustrating but I feel that I can't say too much because I work for him. I push it a couple of times by asking him again. He knows I'm getting more upset that he isn't helping but it doesn't change anything. He still makes no effort to help. His son walks through the room, coming in one door and out another. He says something as he walks through. After he's gone I ask Bill C about what he said. At the time I knew what he said but I can't recall now. I don't know what I asked or why. I am drying some glasses with a dish towel. There are some coffee cups, not coffee mugs. They have something in them that wasn't a drink. It reminds me of dried jell-o but the colors are blue and yellow. I'm trying to get it out of the cups and then I continue washing and drying glasses.