His fingertips were brushing along my throat, pressing gently to the side to turn my head to let his lips travel against my cheeks, my jaw, throat ......There it was, that pure fear, that genuine gasp for air but he didn’t stop this time - I didn’t stop him. He pulled back, leaving the sensation of that rough stubble burning my skin as if he had used paint to mark a trail and he looked at me as if to ask if this was okay.I didn’t stop him.I won’t stop him.His fingers massaged my arms, squeezing. I’m a former student. You think they’d show me more kindness. Nope. She had to be a bitch about the whole thing, imposing restrictions on non-students as they used the four public-access computers. Women as a lot are a dangerous, unpredictable group. But that day I saw two of them who were as different as night and day. Here I was, sitting alone at the computer, trying to edit this book which I’m trying to fix before sending it to my publisher. It’s about a fiction anthology about the life and. More

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