He wanted me to respond. My nipples were stiff in my bra, aching with need. My hands wrapped around his neck and I pressed myself to him. I could feel...the hard muscles under his shirt. He smelled so good. The more our tongues danced, the more demanding he became. He slid a hand under my t-shirt and kneaded my flesh. He groaned and his hand moved up to my swollen breast, kneading it. I whimpered into his mouth and he broke the kiss. I felt lost without his on mine and he pulled my shirt up to. When he managed to swim up to consciousness, past the killer headache that made opening his eyes a painful effort, all he could see were two withered ankles over house slippers that even his grandmother would have thought outdated. Great, he thought, caught by the widow.It wasn't until he tried to lift his head and found he coudn't look up that Chuck started to worry.Not only couldn't he move his head, he couldn't move his arms or legs - and if his head was at the widow's ankles, then the rest. More

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