His eyes focused on what his fingers were doing, caressing her neck and cheek, willing her to understand the depth of feeling he had for her. Wishing ...e could transfer to her how much he loved her. Change. What is love? he considers now. Loving another means being willing to change those things within and without ourselves, to accept love over pain. For Her he was willing to change. Poetry was the smoke-filled air that made his chest ache, velvet were the sheets that could not house enough. Missy and Ray were talking, she was running her fingers up and down his chest and neck, clearly testing the water to see if hed bite or swim. Too bad he was already on my hook. I walked over, black stilettos clicking. My black and silver sequined miniskirt hugging me ass cheeks and perky tits bouncing a little with every step. I slid in between Ray and Missy, pressing my hot and bothered body against Ray, giving Missy the signal to go find a different straggler to fuck tonight. She left with a. More

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