Her vices she limited to a small shot of Irish Whisky a few nights a week, writing bondage stories, and apparently now, Penny. She toweled dry her hai..., and styled it with a dab of mousse and the flick of a wide-toothed comb. A bra and garter belt, stockings, and panties layered with a camisole, and then followed by her nice black skirt with the wide belt and shiny buckle, followed by a loose, white turtleneck. She re-looked over herself in the mirror, again, critically. A stray gray hair she. My eyes wander to his lips, and then to his eyes. I know the look, but it’s been so long since I’ve seen it that I don’t know what it means. I cross my arms over my chest. He comes outside, joining me on the porch. I suddenly feel very vulnerable in my short jean shorts and tank. I shift to the side and start inching backwards. “Damon,” I breathe. “Yes,” he whispers, taking another step. I step backwards, only to find my back crushed against the wall of his house. “Damon,” I whisper. I. More

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