Archive for the ‘Bedroom Books’ Category

Sacchi Green, reviewer at Erotica Revealed, asks in her review of “Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale” if the book is a morality tale or a paean to sexual desire, the greatest life-force? It’s a good question! And I guess you’ll have to read the book to find out for yourself.

But I might add teasingly… what if the book is both – Both a morality tale AND a paean to sexual desire, the greatest life force!!! Why can’t it be both…

I’d love to hear what you think.

You can read Sacchi Green’s review here: http://www.eroticarevealed.com/current_reviews.php?panel_id=1

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Sacchi Green reviews “Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale” on Erotica Revealed

Green writes: “I don’t quite know what to make of ‘Good Pussy Bad Pussy: Rachel’s Tale’. The title sounds like a lighthearted, sexy romp, and the first part is certainly sexy enough, but Rachel is foolish rather than lighthearted, and some of the situations she gets herself into are too grim to be considered romps.

This isn’t a bad book by any means. The writing is good and the central character is likeable enough. The sex is well written, although by the second half of the book there’s very little enjoyment involved.

Rachel, an American, is bored with her husband in Amsterdam, so she leaves him (and her four year old son) and runs off with blond, buff Stefan to Nice, convincing herself that “it was true love, great passion, high romance.” Life on the Riviera seems to be everything she could want, and so does the sex with Stefan. Sex with Stefan’s boss is even better. But sex with the boss’s brutish business associate is not, and Rachel feels guilty that she comes to orgasm even with someone who repels her. (She never seems to realize how lucky she is that all the men she fucks, even the brute, are skilled at giving women oral sex.)….”

To read the full review, click here: http://www.eroticarevealed.com/current_reviews.php?panel_id=1

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I am just so chuffed! My book “Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale” just got her first review on Amazon.com and it’s 5 stars! Yay!

Here is what Mr. McNickle wrote about the Kindle edition:

“5.0 out of 5 stars – Excellently written erotica
There are so many books about these days that claim to be erotic. Some are too cartoony. Others just recklessly written average filth. Somehow Rachel’s Tale ignores both of these failing styles, and embraces both good writing and clearly described, lustful indulgences. If the aim of A. Aimee was to arouse, the author succeeded. Thank you, and I look forward to more.”

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Hi. So you want to know a little about me? Well here goes:

My name is A. Aimee – and the A. stands for Amy. So yes, my name is Amy Aimee. And I wrote a book called “Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale” which Bedroom Books published and released on Oct. 25, 2013.

And my question (or you could say my project) is: How would it be to be unabashedly lovely and loving? How would it be? To really be that?

That’s what I want to know. How would it be to be unequivocally and amazingly lovely and loving? To just amp it up and pull out all the stops? And be that amazing someone or something you already know you are (but probably never admitted)? And not be half-assed about it either but rather really let it out and fly.

It almost makes you blush just to think about it, doesn’t it? You without all your inhibitions. You without all your insecurities. You without being ground down by everyone’s expectations including your own. Just you – allowing you, allowing yourself, to be in contact with, feel and actually live the glorious life which is you, yours.

And yes I know, I’m being a little highfalutin here… yes I hear you. It’s not really possible you say. I know; that’s what they told me too. But still…

OK I admit it. We’re on shaky ground here aren’t we?

And well yes, as I said, that’s kind of my project. Being a little highfalutin and on shaky ground and all.

And, while shaking and being on shaky ground, still having the guts to go and explore it anyway… in life – and on paper.

So yes, I wrote a book and called it “Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale”. So there’s no mistaking what it’s about here, is there? And yes, it’s an on-paper attempt to explore this… an on-paper attempt to express some of this without actually talking about it directly that is…

But what my heroine Rachel does when she’s coming from that space is rather intoxicating at times. Or at least that’s my experience, watching her. And watching how it actually plays out when she’s not sure about much except the energy she feels… the drive… the intoxication of her own soul… It’s that impulse again, isn’t it?

So yes, I found it quite intriguing to let her loose through me. And it’s been quite a ride. Because whenever I thought about her and her story, I just got sucked into it. It just drew me in and on, which is why I guess, I did and still am writing about her a lot. She/Rachel makes me feel well rather heady. High you might say. And sometimes downright horny, when the life juices are steaming/streaming in and through her/me!

I can’t be the only woman on the planet who feels like this!


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“Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale” is now available on Kindle for just £0.99! This special offer is only for one month! Let’s spread the love…

Check it out here:


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Albert’s house on Cap Ferrat was unbelievable, perched overlooking the Mediterranean. It turned out he wasn’t just rich, he was fabulously wealthy. A house like his on Cap Ferrat meant he was very well established indeed.

We walked in through a polished wooden entrance gate onto a meticulously groomed, Zen style lawn surrounded by swaying palm trees set in round stone beds. An amazing stone terrace sloped and curved down to a swimming pool. Well-dressed men and women were scattered around the pool talking in small groups. Two striking looking women were swimming and laughing in the clear blue pool while several men were standing by, watching them, making jokes and drinking champagne. Discreet white-jacketed waiters moved quietly from group to group with drinks and hors d’oeuvres.  I didn’t see Albert anywhere. Stefan nodded at several of the people but seemed to be looking for someone special. He led me towards a small group of people sitting on stunningly modern white garden chairs.

“Ah, there is Michelle, I need to talk to her for a minute,” Stefan said.

Two men got up and came towards us.

“So this is Rachel,” said one.

“Rachel, this is Joey and Carl, they were up at our hotel this afternoon. You missed them, remember?” he smiled. “Carl, entertain Rachel for a few minutes will you? I need to talk to Michelle.”

“With pleasure.”

Joey was a dark, handsome North African. Carl was tall and thin with a warm smile and gay funny eyes.

Stefan left us for a beautiful French girl with short black hair. He whispered something in her ear and she stood up, took his hand, and they walked away.

Carl grinned, “Don’t worry Rachel, Michelle just got back from Beirut. Stefan just wants to talk to her about it.”

“What’s it all about?” I asked.

“Come, let’s go over there,” Joey pointed to a cool shady spot under some old trees.

“The first thing you must learn when you join Albert’s family,” said Carl leaning against one of the trees, “is never ask questions!” He looked at me with impish smiling eyes. Was he serious?

“Oh come on Carl, don’t scare her!” Joey broke in. Was he laughing too? “Now tell me, where are on earth did Stefan find you?”

“I met Stefan at Zandvoort, a beach just outside in Amsterdam.”

“Amsterdam!” they both exclaimed.

“Yes, what’s so strange about that?”

“But you can’t be Dutch,” Joey cried, “you’re almost as dark as I am!”

“I’m American.”

“Oh… so what were you doing in Amsterdam? Just visiting?”

“Oh no, I’ve lived there for almost seven years now.”

“Seven years? How can you stand it?” cried Joey.

“It’s not so bad,” I laughed, “my husband is Dutch.”

“Your husband??”

“Yes, and Amsterdam is a beautiful city you know.”

“Well,” said Joey, “I’ve never been there so I really don’t know. I’m from Algeria but two of my brothers lived and worked in Amsterdam. Both of them married Dutch women but Armand, the younger one, came home quickly.”

I had to laugh at the serious expression on Joey’s face.

“There’s nothing funny about the stories they told,” he continued. “What is it with the women up north? Armand’s wife wanted to work, you know, and didn’t want to have children. What kind of a woman is that? And when he insisted, she left him. He is a hard worker and he just wanted to take care of her so she wouldn’t have to work. But she wanted to be independent. Is that the way women are up there?”

“Well yes,” I replied smiling, “most women in The Netherlands work.”

“But why? What do they want? You think they look so beautiful… all nice and blond, but when they start to talk and you hear what they are thinking… anyway that’s what my brother said. And he said they’re all like that. My older brother Ali has two children with his Dutch wife and she won’t let him take his children to Algeria to visit our old mother because she is afraid he will kidnap his own children and never go back to The Netherlands again. And my old mother is too weak to visit them.”

“I’m sorry to hear that but the truth is women are independent in northern Europe and have their own money and can decide things for themselves.”

“But is it necessary?” he asked. “I mean if a woman has a good man, why should she want those things? A woman’s place is at home. She should be happy to give her husband children. That’s how it is where I come from.”

How could I tell him we grew up in different worlds?

“Things are different in northern Europe and men and women are brought up in another way. We are taught that men and women are equal and should have equal opportunities to live the life they choose. So men and women act much more alike and they think and work together. And when women are independent, they usually don’t have so many children. It’s not their only priority anymore. So yes, it’s very different.”

“But how can we have a good life without the difference between men and women? Can you tell me that?”

When I didn’t reply, he continued, “And what about you Rachel? Are you like that too?”

“Well I have a son if that’s what you mean. And I stayed home and took care of him for quite a while, but I got bored and well here I am… I ran off from my husband too.”

Joey looked shocked.

“Why did you leave him? Was this Dutch husband of yours such a bad guy?”

“Oh no, he was an ok guy.”

“I’m sure he was,” a voice said behind me. I felt hands on my shoulders and I knew from the electric shock running through my body that it was Albert.

“Let’s not upset our guests Joey,” Albert said. “When will you learn that the whole world doesn’t necessarily think like you and your brothers?” He smiled.

“Pardon,” said Joey and bowed before me.

“Come,” Albert said to me, “Let me show you my house.”

I looked around for Stefan, but he was nowhere in sight.


On the way up to Albert’s house, we met a big, bear-like man who seemed rather flustered. He spoke to Albert in German, excitedly. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of a sentence and stared at me. His hand moved toward my shoulder.

“Rachel, this is Felix Fischer from Hamburg. I am doing a little business with him. Would you be kind enough to give him your hand? He doesn’t speak English but he seems to be quite taken by you.”

I shook hands with Mr. Fischer. Then Albert and I walked into the house.

After showing me around the most amazing house, he took me downstairs to his study. It was in the lower corner of the house and because of the slope of the garden, the huge picture windows were above ground looking out over the sea. The view was breathtaking. His long desk faced the windows so he could look out while he worked. I liked that. Further back in the room there was a low couch and I imagined him sleeping there at times.

“Will you drink something?” he motioned towards the couch.

“No thank you. The champagne by the pool on an empty stomach was more than enough for me,” I laughed uneasily.

Being suddenly alone with Albert made me tremble all over. I hadn’t forgotten the intensity of our first meeting and the wave of liquid desire he had awakened in me. I wanted to act nonchalant and tried to, but couldn’t. There was just something about the man that drew me to him; he exuded this strange, magnetic power. He came over to me, standing as I was in the middle of the room, and laid his hands on my bare shoulders. I was sure he felt me trembling. In the background, Music for Zen Meditation by Tony Scott played softly.

“Come my dear, don’t be so serious,” he said, brushing my hair away from my face, “it’s not good for you.”

”What do you mean?” I replied, feeling unsure of myself.

“You’re wearing yourself out for no good reason.”

“Really… I’m not sure I understand.”

“Oh yes you do… you are thinking and worrying all the time and it’s exhausting you. Always trying to figure things out, trying to deduct what’s going on, speculating, worrying. You’re probably worrying about your son right now, tormenting yourself because you ran off to have your little fling with Stefan.”

“Well what’s wrong with that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with watching what’s going on, but you do more than that. You keep turning things over and over in your mind until you wear yourself out instead of enjoying the present moment. Come and sit down on the couch with me, I want to tell you something.”

We sat down.

“Many years ago I spent some years in the Far East and one of the most important things I learned there was that if you want to do anything, enjoy anything, accomplish anything, achieve anything, you have to focus your energy on that one thing and forget everything else that is going on around you. You have to disregard everything else and focus your attention at whatever it is you’re going to do – and then do it. I know it sounds very simple, but it’s really very difficult to do. Most people don’t succeed in life because they scatter their energy too much. Instead of focusing on the task at hand and on the present moment, they waste their energy worrying about what happened yesterday or what’s going to happen tomorrow. So they’re rarely really present and focused in the moment. And as a result, they don’t succeed at what they’re trying to do and they don’t enjoy the present moment for what it is.”

I wondered why he was telling me this. Why me?

He went on.

“In some traditional Eastern disciplines, they teach the idea that you have to divide your mind up into compartments. One compartment for this situation and another compartment for that situation. When you’re not actually doing something about a situation or problem, you simply put it in its compartment and forget about it until the appropriate time. Otherwise you are just wasting your energy and exhausting your nervous system. What can you do about your son right now? Nothing, right? So why worry about him? You are just wasting your energy. Save it until you can actually do something about it. Otherwise it’s exhausting… what I’m trying to tell you sweet Rachel… is to relax a little… you can just let yourself go… really.” He smiled reassuringly.

“Look,” he continued, “I have become a very successful businessman. Do you know why?”

“Sure, because you’re smart.”

“Well it’s not just that,” he smiled, “It’s also because – fortunately for me – I’ve learned how to focus my attention and my energy. That’s the real secret of my success.”

“Albert, why are you telling me all this?”

He gazed into space.

“I should have met you before you married and had a son.”

“What do they have to do with it, now that I’ve left them?”

“You’ll go back to them and probably soon… but until you do…” he moved closer to me, “let’s see what happens…”

He kissed me on the mouth while his hand moved up my leg. Suddenly the door to his office swung open. It was Stefan. He looked angry seeing me with Albert.

“I was looking for Rachel,” was all he said.

Albert stood up.

They started talking in German.  It didn’t sound exactly friendly. I heard my name and stood up, getting ready to go with Stefan.

Albert turned and motioned me to sit down. “It seems Stefan forgot something important he must attend to.”

Stefan slammed the door and left without looking at me.

Albert laughed and locked the door.

“Well Rachel, now you know how Stefan feels about you.”

“I’d really like to go with Stefan,” I said out of loyalty to Stefan, even though I wasn’t really sure I wanted to go. The words just came out.

And when Albert didn’t reply, I blurted out. “Why are you doing this Albert? Can’t you see I want to be with Stefan?”

I started towards the door.

“Not so fast Rachel, not so fast. There’s something I forgot to tell you.”

His words made me shiver.


“Sit down and I will tell you.”

He had some power I did not understand.

When I just stood there, he came and took my hand and led me over to the couch.

“Now sit down,” he said.

I sat down. He sat down besides me.

“You probably don’t realize it my dear, but I do a considerable amount of business in the Middle East. The details won’t interest you. But Stefan interests you I’ve noticed and Stefan is a part of my operation. Right now I am looking for a replacement for Ben Ari who was head of my Beirut office until he was killed by a suicide bomb in Baghdad 14 days ago while there on business. Ben was not a careless man but Iraq as you know is not the safest place in the world. And our business involves certain risks….” He paused. “I was thinking of sending Stefan to Beirut as his replacement but he asked to stay here at the moment which I gather is because of you.”

He fingered my hair.

“Now Rachel, do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Ruthless bastard,” I muttered under my breath, eyes flashing.

“Come, come my dear,” he laughed, “it can’t be all that bad.”

I felt hot tears of frustration in my eyes as he went on toying with me.

“I like a woman with spirit,” he said, lifting my chin and gazing at me with those piercing eyes of his.

He was silent for a moment, watching me pout; then he went on. “Yes it’s true,” he continued, “you will have to make love to me in exactly the way I desire… which quite frankly I am sure you will enjoy… but other than that and maybe one or two other small requests I may have for you in the future, you can rest assured that Stefan is yours for as long as you care to enjoy him. So there is really nothing to be upset about. After all, my dear, am I not keeping you both here on the Riviera in the very best of style?”

He walked over to the windows and drew the curtains.

“Now stand up and take off your clothes.”

I stood up and looked at him.

“Do you really want me that much?”

“Isn’t that obvious, Rachel?”

“But why, I just don’t see why? You already have everything and every woman at this party today is more beautiful than I will ever be and they’re all waiting in line to have you… so why me?”

He did not let me continue and he did not answer. He pulled me towards him. I stopped struggling and let him undress me until I stood quite naked before him. I felt no shame though I knew my body was not as perfect as many he had seen. His desire for me made me extraordinarily beautiful, not only in his eyes, but in mine as well. He really did want me.  But why? Was I that different? He moved his hands over my body and then led me back over to the couch where he lay me down and spread my legs. He still had all his clothes on and I was completely naked.

He sat down next to me and gently ran his hands up and down my thighs, caressing me slowly. He was in no rush. Slowly, he let his hands lightly trace the curving lines of my body. It was as if he’d sent an electrical current through me… and I felt myself quivering at the slow sensuality of his masterful touch. Then he bent forward, tasting my pussy and caressing me again as he had done that first night with his exquisite tongue. Even if I had wanted to tense up, I simply couldn’t. I might have had my pride, but my pussy had none. And besides, she was too far gone and he was far too insistent. There was just something about him that was far too knowledgeable and far too into me for me to fathom. It seemed he understood my body far better than I did and because of this knowingness, I knew he could and would wait. Wait for me until I was good and ready for him. And wait he did, because he could. He had that power, that magic; he could linger and linger… until he knew by my wetness and the swelling, swaying movement of my hips that I wanted him as much as he wanted me. Only then did he stop, get up and begin to undress. Because by then he knew I had forgotten every protest and would wait for him no matter what. And when he came to me, naked and ready, I surrendered easily and followed him as he took me with sure strides to that brilliant destination only he knew of. And there we lingered, crying out and coming powerfully and magically together.

Then he lay quiet inside me for a long time. And strange as it may seem considering the short time I had known him, in that amazing stillness I found myself clinging to him and loving him with all my heart.

Such was the intensity of his focus that he had made me his.

I didn’t know how; but I knew it was true.

And in that moment, I wanted to be his, desperately and now that it was done, now that he had possessed me so thoroughly and completely, I took pleasure in it and was satisfied. And felt sure that he knew I wanted to be possessed in exactly the way in which he had possessed me.

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We ate for a while in silence. I picked at my food, thinking it was a good thing they didn’t know the real truth – that Stefan didn’t even want me as much as I wanted him. Ha. I laughed to myself. That was the irony of it. But even if it was only me that was so obsessed, even if it was all a delusion, a dream, I wanted it anyway. I wanted it for as long as it lasted, which I hoped would be for a very long time. That was the truth; my truth. Whatever the cost, I didn’t want it to end. I just wanted to keep disappearing down that rabbit hole of bliss and stay there forever.

“So tell us about this Stefan,” my mother said, “handsome he must be, but what does he do for a living? Was it Stefan who bought you the fancy clothes?”

“I really don’t know exactly what he does, but he works for a man named Albert Giovanni who is the head of a big company called Giovanni International.”

“What does this Giovanni International do Rachel?” my father asked.

“As far as I know, they sell heavy machinery all over Europe and the Middle East.”

There was a slight lull in the conversation until my mother said, sweetly but firmly, “Look Rachel, why don’t you just get on a plane and go back to Amsterdam and have a talk with Jan. Really sweetheart, you owe it to your son.”

When I didn’t say anything my father added, “At least you can give it a try.  Jan might just surprise you and understand. But whatever happens, your mother is right; you owe it to your son. Don’t abandon your child for some pleasure now that isn’t going to last very long. That’s what you should be thinking about.”

After that, we didn’t speak for a while. We were all digesting what had just gone down.

My father wanted to go for a little walk after dinner and I was relieved because I couldn’t bear to talk about it anymore. It was a lovely balmy evening and we walked down the Promenade des Anglais. It reminded me of summer vacations when I was a kid.

We felt close together, but also sad that so many of the things we had shared were past and would never come again. I had this sudden intuition about how it must feel to grow old and see the world you have known and loved fade away. Our lives were passing away so quickly. In a flash we are gone with all our happiness and all our troubles too. It made my own problems seem small and insignificant. The stars were shining down upon us, the same stars that were there when we came into this world and would still be there when we left. What did it matter if I laughed or cried? I was only one more flare in the night, shining brightly for a split second in time. It was the same for my parents. And I had to face it, one day all too soon they too would be passing away. I missed them so much even though they were right there, walking on either side of me. They were my parents, my very own special parents and I would never have any others. They had wedded and bedded and out of that mysterious union, I had emerged with all my hopes and dreams. And they had tried to give me a direction as best they could. Whether they had succeeded or failed didn’t really matter at all. We might have quarreled in the past, we might have misunderstood each other at times, but they loved me and I loved them. It was as simple as that.

I stopped and hugged them both, one after the other. They didn’t say anything, but I knew they felt the same.


   The next day I put my parents on their plane to Israel.

They left saying, “Now be a good girl Rachel and think about what you are doing! Why don’t you just go home to your son?”

It was such reasonable advice. Hearing them talk made everything seem so simple. I was a mother and had a responsibility to my own child. But as soon as I walked out of the airport’s glass doors into the sunshine of that splendid Nice morning, I felt that jolt – that marvelous zap of energy running through my body. Wow! And yes, it was that jolt, that zap that sent me on this adventure in the first place. It was such an overpowering sensation and to say it was just a physical thing would have been to underestimate what was going on with me. I was possessed, obsessed, enchained, entranced by an energy I didn’t understand. And it didn’t have anything to do with the logical, reasonable world my parents lived in and talked about. I had run off in pursuit of something magical. Some might say I just wanted to get my kicks, but whatever it was, the truth was, I wanted more.

Maybe I should go home and maybe I would, but not just yet!

Feeling that jolt of energy course through my body made me remember the day I met Stefan and I shivered with pleasure.  It was an early summer day at Zandvoort beach; I was there, enjoying the sun and sea with little Daniel. We’d been there all afternoon and it was early evening – most people were gone or leaving the beach. The sun was sinking slowly in the Western sky. I remembered how cool and peaceful it was and how I was just lounging around enjoying the tranquility and the evening air while Daniel played close by in the sand. All of a sudden this blond Adonis came out of nowhere and asked me if I had a light. I hadn’t noticed him before that moment, but apparently he must have been lounging somewhere nearby because he had seen me. (I later found out that he had been sitting moodily on the beach, feeling low because he had just split again from his Dutch wife Monique and their two small daughters – Linda and Sabine. They had been having this on and off relationship for quite a few years until finally Monique had asked for a separation. She was fed up with his uncommunicative ways and the fact that he was away so much on business because of Albert. But obviously at the time, I didn’t know any of this.)

A couple of young Indians were making food on a small grill not far from where I was sitting and one of them ran over and asked us if we would like to join them. Daniel jumped up and said “yeah!” because he was hungry and so it all happened so naturally. We laughed and joined the Indians and got to talking as we munched on their lovely food. (The Indians thought we were a couple and laughed heartily when we said we didn’t know each other.)

So truly it was as if the gods had arranged our meeting (and of course they had). I found it easy being with him in the cool evening air – and I liked his quiet ways. From the very first moment, I felt as if we were being drawn to each other by this powerful magnetic force and there was nothing we could do about it. I remembered I couldn’t take my eyes off this blond Adonis – and he kept looking at me too. We stayed until late in the evening; and by then it was obvious we would meet again.


When I got back to our hotel suite, Stefan was sitting on the armchair with his feet up on the window sill. He was talking on the phone. All I could think of was how good he looked, how inviting, how sexy. He had on tight-fitting underwear which revealed his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He had just taken a shower and his wet blond hair was combed straight back off his face. He looked around at me and motioned me to be quiet.

“Happy Birthday little Linda,” he was saying into the phone in a special voice I’d never heard him use before. “How old are you now??… Five years old! Did you get the present Daddy sent you?”

My mood of sex and adventure vanished when I realized who he was talking to – his youngest daughter Linda. His wife and two daughters were still living in Amsterdam. And today was the little one’s birthday. Funny, but up until that moment I hadn’t really thought of Stefan as being a father (though of course I knew he was) or of him being able to speak to a child in that kind of warm friendly Daddy voice.

I felt vain and stupid hearing him talk to his little daughter like that. Maybe deep down inside, he scorned me because I’d run off with him and left my own son. Maybe he thought I was a pushover, a woman of no character, with only a hot cunt to speak for me. Mentally I began packing my suitcase to catch the next plane back to Amsterdam. My parents said I should go back, Stefan must be thinking the same thing. What was there left for me to do? I really did miss my son.

I went to the bedroom and sat down on the bed while Stefan chatted and laughed with his daughter.

But still, I told myself, this was the first time I’d ever been away from my son and I hadn’t been gone very long. Didn’t I have a right to a little vacation? But who was I kidding? This wasn’t exactly a vacation – this was an uprising – a full-scale rebellion! Looking back, I could honestly say I’d tried; I really had, for years. I’d tried to convince myself that my life with Jan was great. But it just didn’t wash. It wasn’t enough. I hadn’t taken care of me. I hadn’t nurtured the woman I was. In fact it had gotten so bad that I no longer even knew who I was. Oh yes, I was a mother and a wife, but it all seemed so tame after the great hopes and dreams of my younger years. Back then I thought I was going somewhere, thought I was going to do something, be someone, achieve something that mattered. And now all I had was the crushing frustration of a life I had freely chosen with a man who turned out to be a real drag. And I hadn’t wanted to admit it, at least not until I met Stefan.

Stefan came to me in the bedroom after he said goodbye to his daughter. I guess I looked depressed because he sat down and put his arm around me and said, “Was seeing your mother and father that bad?”

“Oh no… not really,” I mumbled.

“Well then, what is it?”

“It was just… just hearing you talk to Linda like that…”

“Oh come on Rachel, you knew from the beginning that I have two small daughters. They are very dear to me and I am sorry their mother and I are not together to take care of them. You know that.”

“Stefan, do you think I should go back to Amsterdam?”

“You should do whatever you have to do – but not right now!” he said and laughed. “How did we get on this subject anyway?” He pushed me playfully back on the bed. He was determined to make me forget. It wasn’t hard to do. He kissed me and I couldn’t resist him. There was just something about him, something…

He undressed me expertly and then did what he always did. He took off his underwear and then positioned himself, completely naked, over me with his arms outstretched as if he was about to do push-ups. He surveyed my waiting body and then lowered his firm suntanned body slowly down upon me, touching me gently as I closed my eyes in a swoon. He knew I liked it like that, liked it when he teased me with the touch of his exquisite body until I was wet, wet, wet. And then, when he knew I was ready, he entered me slowly and lay very still on top of me, letting me feel his manhood. And when I sighed that special sigh of intense delight, which he knew so well, he pressed himself deeper into me. I’d never been with a man who fucked like he did. It was always the same – and even if it was missionary through and through, he had a very special talent for it. A very special way of moving slowly in and out of me, which never failed to light my fire. And even though he made the same moves every time, it always worked. Because there was just something about the trancelike way he moved his beautiful body which always turned me on. Something about the slow, rhythmical movements he made that I loved. And then he’d pick up speed and move slightly faster – and then faster. And I loved it even more. Loved the way his slow deliberation would always lead to that special moment when I felt the thrill of his hard body gaining speed and momentum. Then nothing could deter him. And he would keep his eyes closed and continue to breathe ever so quietly even as his excitement mounted. Then it was all higher, higher, higher and deeper, deeper, deeper – into that pool of intense ecstasy where I could surrender completely – to his rhythm, his guidance, and to the energy that enveloped us. He did not rush, he never did. Nor did he speak as some men do or alter his rhythm or the flow of it. The strength of his body and his arm muscles allowed him to flow onward until we met and found each other in the passion and power of being together and coming together.

Aaahhh… the incredible sweetness of him. Of us.

Afterwards my blond Adonis propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at me. His face was open and suddenly vulnerable. He flicked some strands of hair away from my face.

“You know I never met a woman like you before…”

I did not reply but waited, quite sure he was about to say something important, something I desperately wanted to hear, something I thought I’d never hear him say.

“Rachel, I just want you to know,” he said softly, slowly, “… that no matter what happens… I really do…”

There was a knock on the door.

We both lay very still. Damn! I hoped whoever it was would go away. Who could it be anyway? No one ever came to our hotel. But the knocking went on.

“Open up Stefan, hurry up! It’s important. Come one. It’s me, Joey.”

The banging continued.

“Merde!” Stefan drew away from me.

“I’m coming Joey, hold on!” he shouted back.

He put on his underwear.

“Rachel, go out to the bathroom and get dressed. I forgot to tell you we’re going to a party at Albert’s house on Cap Ferrat today. So dress up nice.”

I grabbed my robe and rushed to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Damn.

I pressed myself against the door to hear what was going on. Two men entered the suite. They were speaking French and they were in a hurry. I turned the water on in the sink. I didn’t want Stefan to think I was listening. They were talking so fast I didn’t understand much, but I did understand when Stefan said, “Joey, no, not again. Not another car bomb!”

The man called Joey replied, “We just got word.”

“Merde,” said Stefan, “does Albert know about this?”

“Yes, and he’s not happy at all. It’s making our operations very difficult.”

“Merde,” I heard Stefan say again.

I didn’t dare listen to more.

I wondered what was going on. It sounded serious, dangerous, risky… But I didn’t dare ask. Stefan never talked to me about what kind of business they were in (but then again, Stefan never talked to me about anything). And it seemed to be understood that as far as business matters were concerned, I was to be kept completely out of it, whatever it was. Was it chivalry on Stefan’s part? Or was it just the man/woman thing in this part of the world? I was curious to know more and knew I should care more, but the truth was I didn’t. The truth was I felt like a million. I felt like a fool. I felt enchanted, entranced, insane. I felt wonderful, wild, happy. My life was a mess and my Adonis was about to tell me that he loved me. I was sure; positive! So I wondered – was this it? Was this true love? He was about to say it, I knew it. I knew it. I knew he loved me. And regardless, the lovemaking was divine. I slid down onto the cool tile bathroom floor as the thoughts whirled round and round in my head.

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When I woke up the next morning, Stefan was already out in the bathroom shaving. He came out smiling and said, “Come on Rachel, hurry up and get dressed. I am going to take you sailing.”

No reference to the past night. He was just like he always was, cool, calm, and tightly closed upon himself. Not a trace of emotion on his beautiful face. My beloved Adonis went back to the bathroom, his face only half shaved, the other half still white with shaving cream. If I didn’t get out of bed right away and start dressing, I’d have to make a scene and leave him. But his lovemaking and the events of the night before had confused me. I had to wait and see. And besides, I’d had never been sailing before. I got up and got dressed.

Stefan and I grabbed a taxi at the Place Massena and drove out along the coast on the Lower Corniche. The day was warm and sunny. We got off at Villefranche, a fantastic bay and harbor which I immediately fell in love with. We walked down to the quays and sat at an outdoor café and had coffee and croissants. Stefan pointed across the water and told me that all the rich people lived over there on Cap Ferrat. I could see the hanging gardens and beautiful houses. Stefan reminded me that Albert had a house on Cap Ferrat too.

We spent the day sailing on a sea of blue glass.

But underneath the surface of amazing calm, I was volcano of conflicting thoughts and emotions. I simply couldn’t figure out what the deal was with Stefan and Albert. Here I was, Stefan’s girlfriend of the moment, and Stefan had just let Albert, his great hero and mentor, sleep with me, his woman. He even mentioned right before it happened that Albert had slept with other women he’d been with. What was with him? Didn’t it bother him? And what about me? Didn’t it bother me? Even though I vaguely thought it should, when I thought about the incredible night I just had with Albert, I realized there was no easy answer to that question either. Simply because making love with Albert had been such an extraordinary experience. Up until that night, I’d thought sex with Stefan was the best thing I’d ever experienced. But it turned out that sex with Albert was even better. It was simply out of this world. Way beyond anything I’d ever experienced before. The man had awakened this incredible tide of liquid desire in me that I didn’t even know existed. And the experience had been so powerful that it overshadowed everything else. So honestly no, the fact that Stefan had shared me with Albert didn’t bother me either!

All I knew for sure was that just the thought of how deeply Albert had touched me made me tremble all over.  And I couldn’t help but wonder how Albert felt about our encounter too. Was I just one more woman in a long line of women to him or had he felt the power of our coming together the way I did? There was just something about it, something about the intensity of our meeting that had blown me away.

So there I was, confused maybe, but feeling so very, very alive! Wondering what would happen next. But not much did… at least not for the next few days. In fact, the following days passed quietly enough. Stefan and I slept late and went down to the beach. We didn’t see Albert. Sometimes Stefan left me alone on the beach for a few hours to do some business, which I didn’t mind at all. In fact I liked lying on the beach all alone, savoring the feeling of liquid desire in my loins. Stefan and I never talked about Albert either or about the night I’d spent with him or about anything that was emotionally difficult. Nor did we talk about the future or what would happen to us. We took long walks in Nice, along the Promenade Des Anglais, looking at all the big hotels and the crowds on the beach. We explored the Old Town which seemed vaguely Italian and we ate the famous bouillabaisse there.

Then one day, out of the blue, my parents called and said they were coming to Nice, the very next day. I was so surprised. Of course they knew I was in Nice, but I didn’t in my wildest dreams expect to see them there. But they said they were on their way from New York to Israel to meet some friends and decided to stop over in Nice for a day to see me.

So the next evening Jerry and Isabel arrived and I discovered that despite the fact that my life was in turmoil, I was really looking forward to seeing them. Waiting at the airport, I made up my mind that I was going to try to be honest with them about what was going on in my life. I just had the feeling that if I had the nerve to tell them the truth, my mother in particular would understand me. I guess I felt this way because my mother was a very elegant lady who always seemed to know more than I expected. She’d been married once before she met my father and sometimes made references to a past that didn’t sound exactly typical. Her flair, her manner, her way of dressing spoke discreetly of a worldliness which the rest of us didn’t possess. She was very different from my father who was just a regular hard-working guy with a kind heart who was getting more and more sentimental with age. I was his only child so he really had a soft spot for me. I also had an older, half-sister, Marlene who was eight years older than I and was my mother’s daughter from her first marriage. I never got to know Marlene that well because she was so much older than I was. And besides, we were as different as day and night. Unlike me, she’d never really tested her limits or been a wild child, but rather followed the straight and narrow path. When she graduated from college, she married a doctor, and settled down. She lived on Long Island with her husband and two children and once in a while sent me emails with pictures of her well-dressed family.

I saw my parents coming through into the arrival hall. My father looked older and my mother looked tired, but when they saw me, they brightened and came rushing forward.

“Rachel! Why Rachel darling, don’t you look beautiful! How are you?” They both said, kissing and hugging me. My mother was looking at the elegant white suit I had on. Her right eyebrow arched ever so slightly as if to say – this is a change!

When we got to their hotel room, my mother went to the bathroom to freshen up. My father stretched and yawned and then put his arms around me, his sentimental side showing its head. There were tiny tears in his beady brown eyes. But they still sparkled like they used to do when I was little and had been particularly naughty.

“Oh Rachel, it’s so good to see you. Am I going to hear about one of your adventures again? Aren’t you a mother now with a beautiful son?” He sighed, let go of me and sat down tiredly in the big armchair. Then he smiled. “But you know I could never get angry with you, could I?  All I can ever see is the mischievous, little green-eyed girl you once were. I guess you will always be my little girl. After all, how many daughters do I have? Ah Rachel… I like to think you take after me!”

My mother came out of the bathroom and when she saw the tears in my father’s eyes, she said gently, “Remember Jerry, we promised each other not to get upset. Now go in and freshen up so we can go down and have dinner. I’m famished.”

My father disappeared into the bathroom.

“Gee Mom,” I sighed, “you look great, you always do. What’s your secret?”

“You know I only wish we had a few days to talk, really talk.” My mother looked at me. “I’ve experienced things I’ve never told you about and now that you’re 35, you’re old enough to understand.”

Then she examined the white suit I was wearing and added, “What a stunning suit this is… I’ve never seen you wear anything like this before. Are you really here in Nice all by yourself?”

“What do you think?”

“I figured as much,” she said and signed. “I only hope that whatever you have to tell us will not weigh too heavily upon your father. He’s not as strong as he used to be.”

“I really don’t want to upset him or you either, but I really do want to talk.”

My father heard my last remark as he came out of the bathroom.

“Talk? Of course we’re going to talk. I want to hear exactly what’s going on. Do you think I came all the way to Nice just to look at the beach? Now let’s go down and eat and you can tell us everything.”

As soon as the waiter left with our orders, my mother started, “So you walked out on Jan and Daniel to come to Nice with whom?”

“He must be something,” my father said and sighed. “You know I’ve never said a word against Jan, even though I wished you had married someone who lived a little closer to New York, or who at least had a little more money. But done is done and I’ve never complained. And now you are going to tell me things aren’t working out?”

“Yes,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn’t help it, I started crying. “I’m so confused.”

“Come, come Rachel,” my father patted my hand rather ineffectively, “there must be more to it than that. You can tell us.”

“Well,” I said slowly, “As far as appearances go, things were pretty okay. It was just…”

“Just what?” my mother said, looking at me rather sharply.

That only made me cry more.

“It was just…” I said again slowly.

“Just what?” my mother repeated more slowly and more gently.

“Well just…” I was struggling to find the words, “I felt like I was suffocating. Like my life was going down the tube! It was all just so meaningless.”

My parents were silent, both looking at me with their kind eyes, so I rushed on, “Not only was our life together such a bore, but Jan is so….”

I paused, not knowing how to explain.

“So what…” my father asked.

“So mean and cold – and so small-minded!”

There I’d said it! I’d blurted it out!  Jan was a bore, an asshole. My life sucked!

Now that it was out, I rushed on, “I mean our life together was just so uninteresting… I don’t know if you can understand but I just felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore,” I paused for a moment and then plunged on, “I just couldn’t figure out what I was living for… And Jan never really saw me anyway. He just took me for granted, like I was a piece of furniture or something! It seemed like my only job was to make him happy!”

There it was!

My truth. What a relief to finally say it! Up until then, I hadn’t fully understood it myself. But now that I said it, there it was, lying quietly on the table before us. Like a smooth, round stone, silent and hard. My truth! My life was a bore! My husband was a jerk! Hearing my own words was such a revelation.

“It was just so frustrating, having a small child and all that and Jan being so closed in upon himself. In the end it was just the same old, same old routine every day. It was like I didn’t feel like a real person anymore.” I cried some more. “I know this sounds really stupid, but it was just such a drag… In the end, it was like I didn’t exist.”

“Ah Rachel,” my mother sighed and said thoughtfully, “This is something that happens to many women your age. Suddenly your youth is gone and you think, is this really it? Is this really my life? Is this all there is to it? It happened to me too so I know how scary it can be. So many of us go through this… one way or another. What it really means is that it’s time for you to find something interesting to do with your life whether or not you stay with Jan. It’s high time you start making a life for yourself! But Rachel darling, it doesn’t mean you have to leave your son, your precious child!”

“Oh I know,” I said crying even more. “What a mess I’ve made of things! My poor baby! I miss him so much… I really do…” I blew my nose and then added, sniffing, “I probably wouldn’t have left him if I hadn’t met Stefan.”

“So,” my father said, fingering his napkin and looking down at the table, “you wanted to go to bed with this Stefan and instead of being like we used to be when we were young, you actually did go to bed with him. And you liked it very much.”

Hearing these words from my father really surprised me. He never seemed to understand my generation before so this was really a change.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Don’t you think we know a little about sex too my dear?”

“I just didn’t think you could possibly understand what I’ve done. I feel like such a fool.” I started to cry again.

“We all make mistakes Rachel,” my father said, “but that doesn’t mean you abandon your child… Think about what you’re doing sweetheart! Is this guy Stefan worth it?”

It was true; I didn’t know what to think.

There was a loaded silence. Then I said what I guessed we were all thinking, “So you think I should go back or what? I mean what would I do? Go back to Jan? Get a divorce?”

“How should we know Rachel? But for starters you could go back and have a talk with Jan,” my father said. “I mean he is your husband – so why not tell him exactly what you just told us? Why not tell him the truth? Why not tell him how unhappy you are with your life.”

“I don’t know if I can – he’s so hard to talk to.”

“Well you could try. Don’t you think you owe it to your son?”

I was grateful that the waiter came with our food. Not that I was hungry, but I needed a break, and time to assimilate what my parents said. Of course I had expected them to scold me, but did they really understand? Could they possibly understand how difficult living with Jan was and how dissatisfied I was with my life? And what about the whole sex thing? The whole good pussy bad pussy thing? Could they possibly understand how strong that drive was? And how it drove me to experiment and do things I couldn’t possibly tell them about? Like sleeping with Stefan’s best friend and loving it too? How could they understand when I hardly understood it myself! Stefan! Albert! Good pussy bad pussy! I didn’t know what to make of it… or her.

All I knew for sure was that when I met Stefan, I just wanted to forget everything else about my life. All I wanted was to disappear down the rabbit hole into the ecstasy of our sexual encounters. Being with Stefan had made me feel so real again, so alive. There was just something about it that made me forget everything else. It was so deep, like total annihilation. I just loved it. I loved disappearing into the bliss. And when that happened, I didn’t want my real life anymore. I didn’t want to wake up anymore with a husband who was as cold as ice and always lost in his own worries. I just knew there had to be more to life than that. With Stefan it was different. When I was with him, all my frustrations disappeared into this shining passion that seemed to consume everything. Maybe it wasn’t real life, but who needed real life? Our passionate encounters were so much better than real life; in fact being with Stefan felt like a dream come true. And it was happening to me. When it was so intense like that, I felt that for once in my life, everything had come into focus. Everything was clear. I was present, alive, thrilled in the moment.

But sitting there at the table with my parents, I knew what they were going to tell me with their down-to-earth, common sense view of life. They were going to say Rachel darling, no matter how good it is, it won’t last. They were going to say that life doesn’t work like that, that life can’t be that good, that much fun. To them, life was work, responsibility, sacrifice and so on. In their world, you couldn’t always get what you wanted. And to them, the bottom line was that whatever I was doing there was my son to think about.

I knew that was what they were going to say but I didn’t want to hear it. Right then, all I wanted was my shot at ecstasy.

To be continued…

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But then I thought of Jan and the life I‘d left behind and my heart skipped a beat. Did I know what I was doing? Suddenly my old life seemed so much more attractive… or maybe I was just longing for the safety of the known. You could do the same thing with many men. What was the difference? And then there was our child! My son! Why hadn’t I seen it before? Did I have to lose him to realize how precious he was!

And what about Stefan? How could he just turn me over to another man like that, even if Albert was his mentor and hero? What was with him? What were they into? I shivered inside, realizing I didn’t have a clue as to what I’d gotten myself into.

At that very moment, Albert began fondling my nipples just firmly enough to excite me. I didn’t resist, nor did I participate. I just let it happen, as if I was watching him and myself from some far away place. This was such a new experience for me; being touched by a man I’d never met before. I didn’t quite know what to think or feel. But Albert was so powerful and attractive that I found it strangely thrilling to feel him touching me so I let myself settle back into the chair.

He understood my body language immediately because he let go of my nipples and lifted my legs expertly and placed them one on each arm of the chair so I was spread eagle before him. I stiffened in surprise, remembering I had no panties on. He went down on me, not waiting for my consent, but tasting me slowly and making me wet. Oh my God I thought… was this me? Was I really doing this?

But yes I was… and then…

Oh my, oh my…

I heard myself moaning at the thrill of his tongue touching me.

He was good… goodness was he good…

He removed his lips from me and put his fingers up me with a gentle firmness that bespoke a knowingness of women and years of experience. I gasped. He came up to me again and began kissing me on the mouth, keeping his fingers in me at the same time.  I moaned as he kept on touching me knowingly, kissing me and bearing down on me. There was no resisting him now. And I felt myself opening even wider under his expert touch.

“You’re…” I mumbled not knowing how to react, confused by the intense pleasure I was feeling.

“I want to see you come,” he murmured in my ear, his fingers emerging slowly from inside me and again playing gently with my innermost lips, caressing them ever so softly. Ahh… The softness of his touch was exquisite, so exquisite. And he waited as I sighed even more deeply and he continued to caress me with such perfect gentleness until he knew that I wanted him too, wanted him to see me surrender completely to his touch.

Then he went down on me again, this time even more slowly, kissing my very wet pussy and doing things to me with his tongue that I’d never experienced before.

I heard myself gasping again with pleasure.

He was a man who could take me exactly where he wanted me to go. And he did. I was defenseless against the tide of liquid desire he released in me. And then I felt it; the confusion of emotions, the rush of ecstasy, the warmth, the wetness. I heard myself moaning and I grabbed his hair – I was nearing the point of no return. I cried out… shaking and trembling, exactly as he knew I would… exactly… and I was there, precisely where he wanted me to be… there as the tide of liquid desire swept me away… and I disappeared happily, ecstatically into the ecstasy of the most amazing, shuddering climax.

No man had ever made me feel like that before. Ever!

When I opened my eyes, my fingers were twisted in Albert’s hair. I would have pushed him away, but he didn’t give me time. He grabbed me and pulled me up. Now he too was aroused. There was no mistaking the hungry look on his aristocratic face, a look mixed with satisfaction. Now he wanted me too. He led me to the bedroom.

“Take off your dress.”

I did as he said. Trembling and bold at the same time.

He undressed and came to me on the low bed. I was wet and ready. He entered me and I gasped, not expecting him to be so hard. He held my hands down and rose above me. There was something strangely magnetic and powerful about him, something I’d never seen in any man before. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, my body bending to his will. He was approaching his climax.

“Tell me, do you want it?”

He looked me deep in the eyes, his gaze penetrating me.

When I didn’t answer, he said it again, “Tell me, do you want it?”

He had this intense, one-pointed quality about him and I felt myself being drawn into his passion.

“Yes,” I murmured softly, “yes.”

He thrust himself deeper into me. “Say please.”

And then he paused, breaking his rhythm and moving in me slowly and sensually until I felt that tide of liquid desire rising in me again. Oh my, oh my! Again!

“Say it!” He moved faster, deeper.

“Say it!”

And I felt it; the liquid tide was gaining momentum – again – and moving, moving, moving… ready to sweep me away until I heard myself crying, “Yes please, please!”

And then he did sweep me away with a fierceness and intensity that did not stop until we both shuddered and came at exactly the same moment. Then he lay on top of me for a long time, his face turned away.

When at last he looked at me with those deep penetrating eyes of his, I felt so many strange emotions.


When I got back to our suite at the hotel, I was relieved that Stefan wasn’t there. I didn’t want to face him just then. I wanted to be alone. So much had happened. I needed to sort out my feelings. I had gone through so many changes in one evening. Albert said very little after his first explosion inside me, but there had been a change in him. After we lay still for a long while on the low bed, he made love to me again. But the second time was so different from the first, so tender and gentle, showing me another side of this incredible man.  And later, when he drove me home with the wind in his face, he was silent and I liked him for it.

But by the time he left me at the door to the hotel, he was the same again as he was in the beginning.

“I hope our little princess has enjoyed herself,” he whispered in my ear and left.

When I got back to our suite, I closed the door and leaned against it, my legs trembled so. Then I went to the bedroom and lay down fully dressed on the bed, overwhelmed by what had just happened and by what I had just done. There was no denying it; this was the real raw adventure I’d been dreaming of, but what I hadn’t expected was that it would trigger such powerful emotions in me. Albert was such an incredible man. I’d never met anyone like him before and didn’t know what to feel or think.  Our meeting had been so… Was this the beginning of my liberation or enslavement? Oh where oh where had good pussy bad pussy just taken me?



   Good pussy bad pussy!

   What was going on?

What was happening to me?

All I knew for sure was that I’d experienced a depth of passion I’d never tasted before – and with a man I’d only just met.

I didn’t know what to think and drifted off to sleep.

Much later I heard the bedroom door open and knew it was Stefan. I didn’t want to face him so I pretended I was sleeping. I heard him moving around the room. He didn’t turn on the light or try to wake me. Instead he came over to me and gently raised my dress. I was lying on my stomach and he lowered himself down on me. I was still wet from Albert, so he entered me easily.

“Oh Rachel,” he whispered tenderly in my ear, “if only you knew how sorry I am. If only you could understand, I couldn’t prevent tonight from happening.”

I was stunned. He had never been like that before, never showed me that he cared – at least not like that. Before he’d always carefully kept his distance, closed in upon himself like a beautiful oyster. But as I felt him growing in me, he was holding me tighter than he had ever done before. Loving me as I had hoped he would, finally, when I thought I might be through with him. Thought I might be through with him for giving me so nonchalantly to his best friend.  But how could I be? How could I be through with the man I had wanted so desperately, right up until that very day? The man who had swept me off my feet with his silent beauty? I might have been confused by it all, but deep down in my heart of hearts, I knew I couldn’t resist him – at least not for long. Not for more than a second or two. So I let myself glide away and be swallowed up by the force of his passion. Only in the dark, when he thought I was half asleep could Stefan reveal his true feelings for me, only after he had coolly given me to his best friend and mentor, the incredible man who had just possessed me so utterly and completely.

To be continued…

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