..” John let the sentence hang.“Yes, dearest John, if things were different.”She took s step forward and hugged him to her. Then she sought his ...outh and kissed him. It was not really a short platonic kiss. Then she looked guilty.John smiled. “I really enjoyed that, but as I can see from your face, things are not different, are they?”She shook her head, and looked wistful.“You have to do what is right,” he said. “You’ll feel better that way.”She nodded again.The month passed quickly.Two days. ." I could not read the next part it due to the heavily scribbling used to cover the text but I could read the end segment. "I can't believe I wrote that. I need sex today." I went back to the scribbled-out text too curious to passed it up. I found if I tilted the diary just right the light would catch it and I could read a fraction of the original words behind all the scribbling. "...night...leaving...window open...someone sneaking in...tying...sleep...rapping me...only a fantasy...would be. More

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