Now that the fire had burned down to a bed of hot coals, it was much easier to control the heat, but he still missed a modern stove where he could set...the temperature exactly.While the roast slowly cooked, he began working on the log, first stripping off the bark, then moving it to an ever-increasing pile just past his shelves. Between the bark and wheat straw, I should have something to start fires with practically forever, he thought as he threw the last shovelful of bark on the pile.He knew. She would have let him take her--and she would have taken him! She fluttered and burned and itched all through her loins. She needed it! She needed a man!"Phil!" she cried. She had heard many men say it, now she yelled it herself... "I need fuckin'!"She finished the pitcher of martinis and glanced fuzzily around the elaborate kitchen. The gin had hit her very hard, after a couple of hours of tennis with Connie Quentin and being out in the hot sun. And the alcohol did nothing to cool the sensual. More

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