She stopped. Refreshed herself from the bar, grabbed her shawl. Was gone.Out into dying heat and falling light. Across cobbles and into the back of a ...ram. Black bodice; purple voile; dark legs, the shawl wrapped around her head as if in confession. A sense of urgency. The end of the tram line met with a cable car, caught high on steel wire, swinging in growing breezes. Open, exposed, a frail bar to hold her, she got in, artfully matching its constant movement. She faced mountainside knowing he. There was nothing small about this man, my hands lost on a dessert of tanned rippling flesh. Slowly I sank to the floor; in the slave girl pose my eager thighs parted wide to show I wanted him. . My fingers shook as I began to loosen the shorts, his bulge now showing my wide eyes what waited for a girl who plays with the inferno of her emotions. Slowly I pull them down over his hips and over his oak tree thighs not daring to look up. Quickly he steps out of them and I look up at my mountain,. More

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