“Say my name again,” she commanded. “I’m sorry? What?” “Say my name, Eric. Say it.” “Okay, okay.” I looked at the table where the no...-empty bottle of bourbon sat. “Shania.” “No, dammit,” she said vehemently. “Look me in the eyes and say my name,” she demanded. I looked at her. “Shania,” I nearly pleaded. She stared at me. “Holy shit!” she said, finally. “No.” She took a sip from her glass. “That’s not…that can’t…” She stopped. “What is it? “What can’t?” “I have to go,” she said suddenly. She. I felt like I was onfire, and I was enjoying the gush of her fluids eagery falling into mymouth for me to drink. Afterwards, when we were too tired to do any more work upon each other,I held her to me, and kissed her. Even this was erotic, and verydistratcting. How could a man just hold her and not want to fuck her? I stroked her sweetly and a little bit bewildered. "What brought that on?" I asked. "I'm so sick of not getting any." She pouted. "What do you mean?" "Matt hasn't put out, and. More

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