It was cellar-like cold. We pressed against each other in the dark and searched for each other's lips.With Erna, I experienced something new. She did ...ot disguise what she wanted. She liberated me from the moment she chose me at the ball, from my inhibiting shyness. There, in the ice-cellar-like dark, we revealed all in the urgency, growing frenzy of our kissing.We moaned out, unashamed, our sexual greed while clawing at each other, frustrated by the hindrance of six layers of winter clothing.. Nottoo much; just enough to keep her guessing.His mother was stretched out on the sofa, languidly reading one of herAnne Rice novels. This was a familiar scene: Lynne Taylor was a bingereader with a preference for the supernatural. The Vampire Chronicleswas her all-time favourite, she must have read it at least sixteentimes, as if searching for passages she hadn't noticed before. Kimhonestly had no idea what the attraction was. Once you read a book youalready knew how it ended. There was no. More

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