Both feelings were pitched to intensity in his presence. She died for his touch and died from it at the same time. Even now, with only memories of him... those intensities were doing battle in her mind. She fed on him with her emotions, making her feel empty most of the time. After all, how can one find fulfillment with something that is not there? She pressed her head to the mattress, the silk of the sheet soothing her cheek was a poor substitute for the imprint left behind from last night. She. She moved towards me, closer, closer, closer, straight past me, brushing the back of her hand on my hips but nothing more. "Stay there", she said, "no peeking". I could hear the playfullness in her voice. I so wanted to turn around and face her but I forced myself not to, hoping to be rewarded. I felt something hit the back of my head and fall to the floor in front of my feet. It was her bra, and I felt my whole body shiver with anticipation. I turned around slowly, to find her stood in the. More

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