‘Look left!’Pearce slammed on the brakes, his right arminstinctively shooting out to brace me as the car jerked to astop. A truck blasted past the...bumper, making Pearceswear bitterly about focking Yank drivers. He ran ashaking hand through his black hair, pushing it into spikes.‘Ye all right then?’‘I’m fine, honey. Want me to drive?’‘No. Apparently I’m needin’ ta practice.’Carefully looking both ways, he crossed theintersection as I settled back into silence. Tense withconcentration, his hands. Peter wondered if it had all been a dream. If it had been, it was the most realistic dream ever. The memories of the dream did not fade, like memories of dreams normally did. No, they were as clear as any memory. Was he dead? Was this purgatory? Where was he?Peter had been an avid reader of erotic stories, many of which were on-line. It wasn't long before the idea came to him that there might have been something to all those "DoOver" stories he'd read. That started him wondering what he could. More

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