For over an hour or so, that was all that he did. He never felt her up. He never touched that sexy black lace dress. All he did was hold her intimatel.... All he did was kiss her lips passionately as passion could be defined. She burned. She felt hotter then hot. Love could not be the right word here as he moved his body about her while he somehow continued to kiss her lips. One way or another, all he did was kiss her and kiss her and it seemed he was not ever going to stop kissing her, ever.. Her teeth are yellowing from too many cigarettes, too many glasses of wine. She looks away and fumbles for a hairbrush. He is sitting in front of the television when she enters the living room. His shirt is unbuttoned, the tie loosened. He looks rumpled and boyish and tired. She feels a fist clench around her heart, feels love squeezing her until it seems she will burst, like an overripe lemon. She stifles the urge to ruffle his hair. He does not like that. He does not like being touched,. More

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