I dreamt of her, her hair as white as the snow which covered her grave. Her smile, always warm and welcoming, the look she always had in her brown eye..., a look of knowing things which others did not, and sometimes, she did. Her voice and her scent haunted me, I wondered if I had done right by her. Would she have liked the funeral? Was the minister the one she would have picked? What about the flowers, the music, her funeral dress, was she satisfied? Did I do the right thing by following her. He had been in a terrible state when she had left."Beautiful," Andrew McCarter commented, stripping Judy's blouse off her. As he dropped it, his eyes swept over Judy's graceful, slender torso, pausing on the tips of her breasts, the line of her collarbone, the flatness of her stomach.Judy couldn't meet his eyes. She hung her head slightly as he studied her. She wasn't ashamed of her body, but she was ashamed of what she was doing with it. She suppressed a shiver.She tried to ignore her regrets. More

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