A thunderstorm is brewing, you can tell because the world keeps flashing bright, and when it starts to rain, it pours on your face like lukewarm syrup... dense and sticky.You groggily try to open your eyes, still feeling the dreamy rain on your skin, your throat parched.As you reach for your glass of water on the nightstand, your arms refuse to cooperate, and glancing out to the window you notice two things that jolt you awake in a flash:The lock is busted, and someone is sitting on your legs.As. David just grinned, helped her up, and they walked away. His mask was not necessarily as natural as the one worn by that trysting tree but he retained it as he had for many years. He felt the familiar sticky wetness in his crotch. That was no matter. It had happened so many times before. That was his first memory of sensuality with Violet. Now he was in the Mile High City, just leaving another Greyhound bus station. Violet had picked him up and was driving them to the western suburbs of the. More

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