I had dreamed in the night, and they were still strange dreams, but more along the lines of Peter and I reaching out for each other across deep chasms...and raging rivers. Always in my various dreams, we touched our hands, but we were still left with the dilemma of how to get to each other. And that was what I woke to, about half an hour after Peter had gotten out of bed. Somehow, we’d reached each other in the night, but what to do now? It was Saturday. The fourth day after, I’d followed. I sit down very close to you, we clink our glasses together, and as I put my glass down, I rest my hand on your thigh. Love the feel of those stockings. You make no effort to stop me, and in fact, gently place your hand on top of mine. The sexual tension is unmistakable and highly charged. We continue chatting, gradually moving closer, my hand now feeling the softness of your skin above the stocking line. I lean towards you and place a very tentative kiss on your soft lips. You respond by. More

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