She fed on him with her emotions, making her feel empty most of the time. After all, how can one find fulfillment with something that is not there? Sh... pressed her head to the mattress, the silk of the sheet soothing her cheek was a poor substitute for the imprint left behind from last night. She could still smell him there. The scent of his hair on the pillow, the smell of sweat and skin on the sheets, the tinge of his essence on her own body, it was enough to drive anyone out of their mind.. When we got to her house she asked me to make myself comfortable. I asked if Mr. Smith would be joining us? She said no because he usually works from 2:30 to 11 so he usually comes home late. With dinner on the oven and some time to kill. Mrs. Smith brought in an ice pack to put on my bruise. As I slid my pants down on the side, a bruise appeared and it was much bigger than I thought it was. Mrs Smith looked at me and just felt so bad. She apologized over and over and told me to wait. She went. More

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