His lips began attacking her ears and neck - her neck! - as well. She felt moisture between her legs. His hand should be there by now, but nothing. It...felt strange.Finally his hand began a slow trek towards her chest. It went around and rested just under her breast, then slipped upwards, cupping her breast. He squeezed it gently, sending shivers through her again. She responded unmistakably, moaning and shaking, holding him tighter and digging her nails into his back. She didn't remember. )MSgt Jerome Spitzer was something of a philosopher, even though I doubt very much he ever thought of himself that way.In my own fashion I'd adopted his code and tried to live my life by it, but with questionable results.At one point or another over the years I'd managed to break each and every one, some more than once. Rule 4 was one of my favorites to smash into tiny, sharp edged little fragments, especially when talking to myself.The hell with Rule 4. Talk to me.You know why.Don't play coy. More

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