“What are you doing here?” she asks, her eyes drifting off of him to scan the room.“I came to see you,” he answers. “I do not know what it i... about you, but I have traveled a long way to taste you again.”“Hazel?” she whispers.“You had disappeared for a while there,” he continues, stepping into the room. “I was afraid that I lost you for good. And then, like the scent of flowers carried on the wind, I found you again.”The witch watches him approach. His slow movements are predatory and she feels. I hear the shower start up. Oh hell no! He is not going to take a shower before me. I don't care if he is the guest. I walk into the bathroom. He turns around and pushes me into the shower and steps in behind me. I feel his hand and the warm water. I feel him touch my nipples. They go hard. I feel him guide his hand down and his finger slips inside me and he toys with me. He gets me all worked up. Next thing I know he is on his knees before me. His tongue slips deep inside me. I moan as the. I was scared of him. He was so old he looked like a skeleton with skin and he moved.So my mom’s early childhood was a Kentucky farm during the Great Depression. She told us one year for Christmas she got a single orange and that was it. No Christmas dinner, no other gifts. A single orange was the whole kit and caboodle. When she was about twelve she went to a sleepover. Some guys came over and one of them wanted to have sex with her. When she refused, he got angry and grabbed a shotgun and. The face of Tara MacClay stared back at him. He put up his handsto defend himself and she did the same. Then the fog lifted, hisvision clearing totally, and he realized he was looking in amirror. He put his hands to... her face. He realized he was now ashe. She. Her. Tara. Willow's lover. "I'm Tara." His voice washers. And everything else was hers, too, everything different.Gone were his button-up shirt and jeans. Instead, a long-sleevedblue shirt and gray slacks adorned his body. As he.
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