” “Hey, I’m not that kind of cherub!” Cupid lied as he followed her across the golden sands, unable to draw his eyes away from her perfect ass... *** Florence lived in a small, homely cottage, the kind that seemed to have jumped straight off the pages of a fairy story. Honeysuckle grew around the door and a big weeping willow tree stood at the side of the house. There was a cobbled path which led through a tangled garden of flowers and shrubs, all of which seemed to have grown as if by magic.. He’s taken my hand and is gently caressing it. His actions are soft, but I’m sensing some tension in him. Finally he speaks. "Tell me about your tattoo. I know there must be some significance behind it.” He turns on his side to face me. I’ve been lying on my back with my knees up, feet on the ground. He reaches over and begins to stroke his hand slowly up and down my calf, over the tattoo, as if in doing so it may answer his questions. “Well, it does…. on many levels.” I pause, thinking of. More

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