-feeling you up. i reply, matter of fact.*why?-cos you feel good.you don't move as we speak, you say no more, but your breathing quickens. i feel it. ...y heart races, thumps in my chest. i think maybe you can hear it, it seems so loud. i put my right hand on your shoulder, move it accross your collarbone, to your neck. i slide my hand around your throat, cupping it, gently squeezing. my whole right arm is accross you now, elbow pointing to the floor, holding you tight to me. i move my left hand. Then with his hand round my waist, he steered us over to a just vacated candlelit booth against the wall on the far side of the café. We ordered a bottle of red, (after finishing off two glasses of a wonderful Riesling) from a passing waiter, and the wine flowed generously as the conversation advanced, well, actually we moved much slower, beginning with the more mundane topics – how I liked Wilmington having just moved in the week before; had I seen the current play at Thalian Hall, (I hadn't);. More

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