Just a soft peck.”“Did she make a noise? A light moan, perhaps?” My wife was not part of the inquisition.“Yes.” I heard snickers. “Shit!�...“You are so toast. Both daughters, and the mother. Shit, Colin, you are in so much trouble.” That was my darling little Nubian Goddess.“Thanks, Sweetie. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”“Colin, Honey, you misunderstood. They all think you’re the bomb. So do I. You really are. Just hang in there. We’ll get Nancy to Daddy in the morning and let them hash it. "The question is, did Michael?" I asked."Of course not! At least, not like this. I promised we wouldn't fuck. Oh, come on, let's go to bed. I'll tell you everything."She seemed so full of energy, like a kid on Christmas morning, flitting from room to room, turning off lights and the TV. When she returned to the bedroom, she hopped on the bed in her red panties and patted a spot beside her. She was radiant, glowing, and visibly excited."Come here, Fantasy Boy. I have things to tell you." She lay. Her thoughts turned to him; she could hear subtle movement, but from where? The room bristled with his energy. The fine hairs over her stomach straightened and she breathed in deeply to taste the air for his musk. Through the veil of silk over her eyes she could make out the shape of the window next to her that looked out to the calm dark sea. He had tied it carefully, slowly, like a preciously wrapped gift. She had been a little nervous, her heart beating fast in her naked chest as he. Parts and pieces of the shattered soul/spirit/being filtered in as they sought coherence, they were, after all, seeking their way out of a multitude of other parts of victims destroyed at the same time.Then there were the others, The Finnish boy killed by a Russian sniper ... the Russian soldier blown to shreds by the stick grenade thrown by the Finnish boy milliseconds before his death ... the Belfast Protestant school girl shot down in the street by the Catholics ... the Polish Jew child who.