Or one blurred evolving kiss that took on a life of its own. A kiss that never stopped for breathes or posture… a kiss that was like a fire that sta...ted small and then consumed all in it’s reach. I don’t know when the first tongue… or who’s tongue… got involved first, but the kiss moved from the lips to a dance of tongues… sometimes playful… sometimes choreographed… and sometimes like an invading army. At some point she captured my tongue in the roundness of her mouth and she began a back and. I accepted it and thus my American adventure began. My parents were not thrilled, as you can imagine. My father Bertrand is a police officer in Montreal, and my mother Daphne is a fitness expert in the Athletics Department at the University of Montreal. They both had plans which didn’t involve their only daughter moving to America. Sorry, Mom and Dad. I love you and all but it’s my life. I left Quebec. America, here I come. I didn’t experience much culture shock in America, partly because I had. More

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