My free hand traveled over her bareflesh, gripping and pinning one of her arms between my body and hers,and then the other one in turn so that she was...practically helpless.She was pinned and may as well have been bound...her arms folded backand my weight capturing her into the chair, pressing her against thethick glass of her moderately high storied room. Most of her upperbody was pressed against the cool glass, and my free hand began totravel over it, squeezing between skin and the barrier. How old are you?”“Thirty-three.”“That means you had Jasmin...”Alia interrupted, “When I was young.”Grinning, I nodded. “So, how can you have menopause? You’re way too young.”Alia glanced down at her plate and back up, her dark exotic eyes studying me intently. “I’m not sure there’s a delicate way to put this, Philip...”“No,” I gasped quietly, leaning forward. “You’re... ?”Alia nodded. She touched the back of my hand. “Eight weeks. I’m so sorry. It seems birth control isn’t one hundred percent. More

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