He must be six-four, maybe even six-five and my god, he made me feel everything he had on me. Height, weight, strength. Even his confidence eclipsed m...ne.I can’t forget. The memory taunts me night after night, torturing me with what could have been. I know it’s counter-productive but I don’t stop myself dreaming about the way he touched me. Touched probably isn’t the right word. Grabbed. Scratched. Ravaged. Reached in and took everything I could give and then some more too. There’s something. I got up and looked atthe dresses I was making.Sarah's bridal gown looked like a more extravagant version of her seniorschool prom dress (mermaid style), but white and lacy. No sleeves orstraps and at least two dozen tiny buttons up the back. She was going tolook amazing. I checked out the three bridesmaids dresses. Pale pinkwith huge white bows at the back. A small train on each. I checked thehand written tags on them "Kayleigh", "Becca" and "me". So I was goingto be bridesmaid. I noticed. More

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