The manicurist’s lotioned hands reminded me of the time on the beach after dusk in Santa Cruz when Michael rubbed my feet deeply and tenderly to the...point I my swimsuit was already wet between my legs before we floated into the water to make love in the waves. The internal conflict was draining and was compounded by not having several nights of solid sleep. I sought solace back in the hotel room where I tried to lull myself to sleep by running my hands over my unclothed body. My hands grazed up. Leaning over him to see what kept him busy allowed the whisper to happen. She actually wanted to see the screen but couldn't focus on it. "Please," she moaned. He printed and closed the file with a couple quick key strokes.She wanted to race out of the Homicide bureau, pulling him into some place private, but the pretense held her back. They nonchalantly walked through the hallway and into an interrogation room. He made sure of privacy, no listening devices or potential voyeurs through the one. More

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