She rested her face
against his arm, while her hand mysteriously sought out the scraggly
down of his chest. He stirred.
"What's all this?" he whispered dreamily. "You're not still afraid?"
"No
," she nearly shouted. "It's not that at all." And then, as if afraid
the moment was lost, she drew in her arms and snuggled closer to him
still. "You're not shamed for me, are you, Michael? I've done nothing
wrong."
"Ah, hush girl. You love your Michael and he loves you. Where's the
sin?" And his strong arm enveloped her back, as he gently kissed her
forehead.....
Oh, to feel his arms around her, his skin against hers! She sobbed
aloud at the thought of it, and flung herself to the ground. How
gladly she would have died, then as now, to be with him forever. But
still her life went on, still the feelings and images would not stop:
They lay quiet for a time, her breasts touching his, their faces so
close, breath intermingling. Then all at once, with a voice hardly her
own, she said the words that had sealed her fate.
"Kiss me, Michael.
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