Again. And there was nothing he could do about it. They were caught in this endless cycle of renewal to slow decay. He hated it – and still he yearn...d for her. Every time. He smoothed a hand over the soft length of her back, as she lay besides him, hovering in that insouciant peace between waking and sleep. It made him smile. She had not been this relaxed, this calm in a long time, the last few weeks a constant parade of violent reassertions of her power, followed by timid withdrawal. Now she. It was mid-summer, New Orleans, and very hot. Even once the sun set, the city was still stifling hot with the heat and humidity of the day. Marco enjoyed this season best. The warmth, heat and general location meant that his prey were usually very scantilly clad How he hated rumaging through layers of clothing to eat his food. After donning his usual garb, black butt hugging jeans, and a black wife beater shirt, he stepped out of his colonial estate, inhaling the scents of the n ght. He took. I turned again to my book but my mind was filled with thoughts that were a far cry from George Eliot's 'Middlemarch'.Aunt Ellen that night, had shaken me to the core with her emphatic declaration that I must find somebody other than her.'You see, Simon, you can't spend your life moping around, wishing you were up here with me and neglecting your studies.' She moved closer in the bed and snuggled into me, her thigh across me, warm and soft. I lay on my back, filled with dejection, and the. The room was filled with wine racks and old crates. As he strained his eyes to see in the shadowy room, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. When he looked, he saw someone standing behind some crates. He recognized him as the guy that Benny had introduced as Brad: the one whose lover was two-timing him with a waiter at the country club. Ryan could only see Brad from the waist up. He was obviously involved in sexual activity as his hips were moving back and forth in a "fucking".