I wanted more than that, but we were building this up, one step at a time.He used his hands like I did, to stroke and tease with feather-soft touches-...over my breasts, down my tummy, over my flaring hips, and all around my nether regions. I was purring like a kitten.His deep brown eyes radiated both lust and love. His lips replaced his hands, as he started kissing my boobs; the undersides, the subtle curve on the tops, and the valley in between.His mouth was tormenting me, as he went all around. Artist’s fingers, she thinks. He is an artist. But he doesn’t paint anymore. The dim light bathes the pages of the book in yellow light. His face is shadowed, hidden in the darkness. A bottle of red wine sits beside him, opened, half empty. She watches him read. On my wedding day, she thinks, on my wedding day, I was happy. She turns abruptly and walks outside onto the veranda. Moonlight washes the old wooden flooring in pale white light. The gnarled fingers of the old sycamore tree snatch at. More

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