“Luci,” he sighed with longing. The bowl of stew disappeared. She used her hands to nudge apart his drawn knees and crawled up against him, betwee... his legs. He settled himself into a semi reclining position wrapping his hands around her small waist. She was clothed in enticing garb that consisted of a clingy pair of low riding shorts and a tunic held up by thin straps, her midriff exposed. Her breasts were larger now and she had faint pink marks on her hips, he guessed, from her skin. Though her back was rigidly straight, she moved like flowing water beneath his hands. She drifted into each turn with soft little footfalls, keeping her face diverted just so that her profile was presented to him. The column of her throat was long, the skin so fine that he could see the light, steady beating of her pulse. “Where is your husband, Madame?” Jessamine turned her head slightly so that she could see his face, “Oh, he’s over by the buffet table with Madame and Monsieur Le roux.” . More

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