I sat up, grabbed his hand in my palms – to warm him up, to keep him here. His hand became lighter, as if evaporating. I squeezed tighter but it became even more intangible. I squeezed more and now my palms closed against each other, with nothing in between them. My eyes darted without purpose in complete darkness. There was no more presence, I was alone, I felt it with my every pore. I was safe, calm, restored. A sense one gets after meditation or a joyous feeling a glass of wine brings on – worries brushed away, sadness gone – complete clarity and peace.I touched my stomach – it was wet, my crotch was still pulsating with a recent surge of energy - it was not a dream.I curled on the carpet. The room smelled of rain, the wind had now calmed down. There were too many thoughts in my head to think them all. I listened to my breaths, one, two, three, four, five… thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…___________I woke up with a throw over me and a smell of French toast. Quinn loved. She started counting her tipsand was amazed at how much she'd made. "Oh my God! I'm rich!" Bob had never felt so satisfied with his paycheck from being ProfessorSmithfield's assistant. Somehow that had the feel of something he wasgiven -- not necessarily earned -- simply because Smithfield had grantmoney to burn. But tonight dozens of people were pleased with her serviceand showed it with tips - a few of them quite extravagant. She was bonetired yet felt a sense of accomplishment. She and the other girls had madethe evening more enjoyable for everyone here tonight. And it was more thanjust her looks; although that was part of it but not all - the mostbeautiful girl could be dull as anything. She was growing to be a funperson, someone people wanted to hang with. They liked her, they *really*liked her! That was something to be proud of.Donna giggled and elbowed her playfully. "Better not start spending likeJessica Simpson just yet. Don't forget we've got some slow weeks comingup. On.
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