Sunday, September 07, 2003


after a week of playing like children, and eating like children, and crying like children, giggling like children, and kissing behind doors like children, they were alone.

he extended a glass of champagne to her, offering, "salut. you survived the playground."

she reached for the flute as the little strap on her shoulder slid down close to her elbow before she caught it, knowing that in a moment, her clothes would be quickly undone by those masculine hands.

she stopped him, "you know, you have never removed my clothes, proper."

"'no, i haven't," he laughed, "and i am not about to start now."

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