On the death of his lover, Bob had built their dream, and named it for her clitoris. It was just an added bonus that the front door was in “Back Pas...age”. He was sometimes to be found in a reading corner, drawing somewhat childlike pictures of his lost love, and wading through joyful dreams that eluded his reality now. He would often look around the place, and be glad that others were so happy. He never spurned advances, but he preferred to keep to himself. He would mutter something to his bar. Your lips are suddenly upon mine and I’m temporarily lost in the fierceness of your kiss. I pull away so that my lips are just out of reach. I flick out my tongue teasing your upper lip and gently nip your lower lip. Two can play this game, I think to myself. I rub my lips across yours barely touching, your breaths becoming heavy. Your hands cup my face and you kiss me, unable to bare the torture any longer. Your lips eat away at mine as your hands move down my neck until they find the mounds. More

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