“Um …” Billie said as he rolled to straddle her, clearly unsure of himself. Evelyn pulled him against her and kissed him. “Just do what come... to mind. I’ll tell you if I want less or more,” she encouraged him. Billie returned to Evelyn's breasts, kissing and nuzzling their firm, round perfection, pushing the orange blossom necklace out of his way with his nose. “Don’t forget the sides, sweety. And the rib cage is surprisingly receptive to lips and licking,” she encouraged, “And yes, the tummy. He transports me. It is his time now, as it once was mine. He makes me remember. My body remembers. My senses remember. Why Paris?It is where I came of age. Have you ever been there? If so, you will understand. Perhaps your city is a different one. But Paris was mine. It is a city of innate sensuality. It is unmistakably real, with palpable beauty. Not like some other cities, whose realities are harsh and dirty and damaging. Paris’ beauty lives in the moment and in the senses. Its only. More

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