Their courtship was slow; frustratingly so for the shepherd lad. He would declaim his latest poem and be rewarded with hot kisses. He gave her trinket... lovingly carved during the long, lonely hours on the moor and was rewarded with a feel of a plump, firm breast. He played her tunes on his flute; tunes to make her feet tap with mirth or eyes cloud over in sorrow and was rewarded with the feel of soft, feminine skin under his work-hardened hands. But, try as he might, the grand prize lay always. " I didn't do anything but sit up." She responded."I know," I answered flatly."God!" She laughed covering her breasts with one arm. "So do you remember anything or not?"I thought back, "Hmmm ... Yeah I do!" I said excitedly, "I remember right around this time there were two guys named Kenneth Bianchi and his cousin Angelo something or another who were dubbed by the media as the Hillside Stranglers..." No." Dana cut me off. "They were arrested either late last year or early this year. Anyone. More

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