She thoughtyou could help me with my young son, Madison."She sat down in a chair opposite me and placed a pen on a notepad. "Whydon't we start with th... beginning. Tell me about your son."Over the course of an hour, I told her of Madison's birth, tragic loss ofhis mother, the past lives... everything. The only time she would stopwriting was when she asked a question. By the end of my time there, Ifelt she had a pretty good idea of what was needed to help my son.She sat her note pad aside and. Hands cupped the underside of her breasts and she gasped audibly, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Underneath her terror there was another feeling growing, a dark thrill that welled up from some hidden, animal recess of her being. She felt fingers gently but firmly kneading her soft flesh, and in the cold her nipples stood out hard and erect, gilded by moonlight. Seconds ago she had been shivering in the cold air, but now she was hot, hot all over, her skin burning. The touch. More

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