You search my face, looking for a sign, afraid of "Stop", hoping for "Yield". I look down, and reach towards the top button on your shirt. I grasp it... and undo it while gazing into your eyes. Your breathing has slowed, you're afraid to move. Down your shirt I go, undoing button after button. After I have finished, I draw you close and kiss you again. Reaching towards your collar bones, I put my palms on your shoulders, and running my hands over your smooth skin, I push your shirt off of you. I even had a few, myself. She was really looking "down," something totally different from her usual happy, vibrant demeanor.I walked near her and looked into her mind—it was in a boiling, jumbled mess! I didn't, at that time, have much luck in looking into a person's mind because I didn't know how to organize my search. I could read thoughts, if the person was mentally verbalizing those thoughts, but I couldn't yet read anything any deeper. I kept probing, but I couldn't come up with an. More

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