It's as if I am living in another time. I desperately want to believe they are real, if for no other reason than it would prove I'm not insane." No," ... admitted after a pause. "That's not quite true. No, I want my dreams to be real because it would mean that you are real. My Rose, my Forlorn Love. If only I could remember those dreams in greater detail."I gazed at her but she remained silent to my ears. Lovingly, I caressed her cheek again as I prepared to leave. "My darling," I said, trying. I had never been french kissed by a man before and I saw stars--everything seemed to be in another world due to the drinking and jetlag...I just wanted to be carried home in his arms and taken advantage of. He kissed passionately. My neck, my quivering lips, and I let out a small moan. I had no idea what was happening, but it felt so right. My hands explored his body, pushing and caressing his full figure -- his belly pushing out on his shirt, filling the space and his strong chest -- I. ”“I’m surprised you are being civil.”“Why wouldn’t I be civil? You did exactly what I asked you to do. You wrote an honest article. Nobody is perfect. I expected some negativity.”“I figured you would be disappointed in how I laid it on thick. I didn’t hold back.”“Why would you? I don’t. Hence I am often perceived as being more arrogant than I am. I know I am arrogant, but not holding back just amplifies the perception.”“I’m glad you like it. A lesser man wouldn’t.”“How much longer do you have. "Hang onto me. If there is anything emergent going on, pound on my back." Ok, sir."Veronica lit up the moment he turned the ignition. The sound, the vibrations, and the power of the motorcycle beneath her turned her on. Her life was a straight arrow; housewife, mother, sibling, church member, and more. People looked up to her for being good. But always being good made her want to be bad sometimes, which of course, was a prime driver in her connection to Michael. The illicit sex thrilled her..