Perhaps he would give her a sign. She would move closer, listening intently, and wait. If no sign came, she knew she was not beyond employing shameles... flirting tactics to get his interest. Sometimes it came to that. He made her wait. He was infinitely more patient than she, and he knew it. So did she. In those anxious moments before he took her into his arms – at long last – she was tortured. The demons inside her demanding attention, her sensibilities scarcely managing to keep them under. Well, lots of things!"She sat Indian style on the bed, talking to me, as I leaned against the headboard, my legs stretched out beside her. She flitted from topic to topic. Alighting on something, then quickly moving on to whatever was next on her mind.Finally, I asked, "You thirsty?"She smiled as she nodded."C'mon," I told her.When we got to the kitchen, I quickly lifted her by the waist and plopped her on the island counter."You sit there. I'll get this. What do you want to drink?" I don't. More

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