The tree is gone now and the river runs murky.How I loved the sound of my name on his lips. "Arabella," he whispered, his voice carrying on a gust of ...ummer breeze. Sometimes I think I hear him say it, a soft caress on the shell of my ear. That night, he stroked my senses with my name, murmuring as he took me to that secret place.Bryden, so dark and tall, laid me upon the ground. His hands ran the length of my body, grazing my curves over the thin, soft cotton until he found the laces that held. She must have been in her late thirties but I was falling for her. Our eyes met like they had so many times before my hand slipped between my legs just to imagine her fingers stroking me to completion. Her eyes fixed on mine seeming to me to change colour becoming darker and deeper in shade of green. Next thing I know she is sitting at my table rubbing her foot up and down my inner calf. She opened her mouth about to speak her luscious full lips needing to be kissed but not sure how to get. More

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