Then her hands moved down across her stomach, with her left taking hold of the bottom of her gown and pulling it upward while her right moved further,...coming to rest between her legs on the treasure found there. Gently she rubbed her fingers across the thin material of her panties, her touch producing both a spark within her and a much louder sigh.Up and down she rubbed, stoking that single spark into a small blaze which would, she knew, grow and spread quickly enough. At the same time, she ran. Perhaps there was something in the superstition. It didn’t help my mood.I found myself walking into the office very early, not remembering anything of the journey back the night before nor of going to bed the previous night, nor indeed anything of getting up and getting to work in the morning. Did I remember to pick Zena up? She was in her office so I assumed I had. I remembered no conversation though. For someone with a photographic memory this was especially worrying.I had a number of problem. More

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