"Isobelle coyly purses her lips, repeats his name. They lapse into a silence punctuated by the movement of the train. About to alight at his usual sto...“I'll take you to dinner. I'd like that.” He doesn't take her number and after he's gone, she grieves for the heat of his gaze.Later, Isobelle expresses herself in her lounge. She daydreams of his possessive stare and his taut, lean, torso as she kneels on the floor, wracked by longing. She splashes scented oil on her breasts and rubs each nipple. But that one ... Mmm...”Holly reached into his pocket and pulled the cigarettes out, along with his lighter. She swiped open the cover, drew out a stick, and lit it. “Have one sometimes myself. Nasty habit, I suppose...”“Not your nastiest,” he grinned despite his weary frustration.Holly smiled and laughed, “Suppose not...”The click was so light that it barely registered over the sounds of air conditioning and nightlife in the neighborhood, but it sent Gene diving against the outer wall of his. More

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