It was the ghostly body that crawled into her bed every night, wanted or not, kissing her forehead and burrowing into her dreams. And yet when it was ...ere in the flesh, she preferred the memory.She felt a hand on her forehead, and smelled cunt. "Look at me." It was not a suggestion. Daphne tried to keep her eyes shut, but the light in the room was too much and her eyelids flitted open. Rose's body was perched directly above her, so that it appeared to go on for miles. There was her cute. . No, that couldn't be his excuse any more. Billie-Ann Wheeler didn't look or talk anything like Pamela Whittier from Boston, Mass. Billie was prettier in her own innocent kind of way."Damn it to hell," Hanson growled, remembering her tan, coltish legs, sun-browned almost as dark as Hanson's own skin. He smiled. At least he preferred his white girls tanned.He looked out the window at a low-flying crop duster, but Billie-Ann's pert profile drifted into his thoughts again: her cute upturned nose,. More

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