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With practiced skill his flying fingers speedily unbuttoned her khaki blouse and, like the coat, his hands stripped it from her. He tossed the garmen... into the same pile with the coat and gun. This man twisted her around and fumbled with her bra hooks. They sprang undone, the undergarment slipped off, and a pair of fully ripened melons spilled out. After flinging the frilly brassiere into his trophy pile, Brad slipped his arms around his woman’s waist, ran his hands up her belly, and then. Hesitantly, I went about my usual Saturday morning routine. Iput coffee on, and waited for the pot to fill. I stuck my hand out thefront door, and brought in the morning paper, and sat reading it untilthe coffee pot finished filling.I sat quietly, reading the paper and drinking my coffee, then lit myselfa cigarette as I usually did. I didn't really feel any need for it, butit was my morning habit. Again, it was rather rough on my throat andlungs, and left a sort of bad taste in my mouth,. Ashtondidn't feel like the same man anymore, in his soul he was more of awoman. Ashton had forgotten to recharge his cell phone and it was dead. He could be a real ditz sometimes. Without any other recourse, Ashtonstarted walking down the road looking for help. The night air was chillyso he took his shawl to cover his exposed shoulders. He was wearing alight green strapless dress with a full skirt. He walked as quickly ashe could which wasn't fast since he was wearing heels. Suddenly a. A shadeof the man I had been. Softened contours, my blue eyes somehow seemedlarger. I looked like a young woman.Something in me broke then and I crumpled into tears, falling into herembrace. I cried openly, my shoulders shaking and chest heaving witheach ragged breath. Sara held me, one hand rubbing my back soothingly.It felt good. Too good. It didn't matter that she was twice my age,didn't matter that she was mother to me in all ways bar blood.What mattered was that she was close. I could feel.
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