They were always right, and she was always wrong. She should have never succumbed to a poet’s life. More than anything she craved the normal life—...s normal as the subdivisions of dense suburban sprawl, the stately colonial homes quaint, clean, and sharp like the edges of expensive stationary, and as she drove up the length of the driveway to her house on the knoll, she spotted her father cutting the lawn from his tractor and her mother pruning flowers in a new garden she cultivated earlier in. The room was semi-lit by the blinds that were half open. Not too dark but not too bright. Liz was laying with her hands under her head and her eyes were still closed. This entire time I had been sitting next to her rubbing her naked back and legs. It was at this point I decided to straddle her. Starting low, I sat near her ankles and began really working her calf muscles. Then, I slowly moved to her thighs, kneading them slowly but firmly. Up and down watching my hands slide over her oily skin.. More

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