. and wanting. I gasp and let out a sharp cry as I feel the first touch of something, more shock than pain. My mind processes the feeling, the sensa...ion, and I realize it is a light touch, feathery, sleek. It could, indeed, be a feather... or fringe of a blanket... perhaps his hair. I can only imagine, not determine, as the touches and teases continue. The feathery feeling is gone now, replaced with something cold and wet... an ice cube? a popscicle? his fingers, dipped in ice water? . All I could hear was her muffled, excited voice, though. None of it was making any sense.When she came out of the bathroom, she was still chattering excitedly with Tanya. When she finally hung up, she beamed at me. “You know that today was the day the Playboy photographer was going to be there?”“Yeah, I remember,” I told her. “I guess it went okay then?”She giggled, “A little different than Tawns expected.” She went on, “It was a guy photographer, not that that matters so much. He took a few. More

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