I clean him from her, taking in his familiar seed, her intoxicating essence. Her breasts are full, her dew is sweet. She is fed the finest yeilds from...trellised gardens. Her growing fruit nourished by lapis-lined channels from sacred springs. Her nectar, better than the sun-fattened figs, only comparing to her breastmilk. No one is as fond of her as I. My love for her is untamed, like wild flower-ladened river banks. If I could produce seed, I would bury it into her. I would delight in filling. My husband had his work and was successfully climbing the corporate ladder, the kids were both doing well in school, and me–I was dying inside. Every one of my days was a carbon copy of the one before–running errands, marketing, fixing meals. I was busy, but bored and unhappy. Rick and I never argued, we didn’t fight, we carefully avoided talking about us. What we did talk about were well-worn subjects–the bills, the kids, and, in general, anything but our relationship. Something was very. I was standing outside trying not to think of what I had seen so that my arousal would subside. It did a little but was still uncomfortable and I knew I would soon have to find somewhere to relieve the tension. After about five minutes, she emerged from the shop carrying a bag which must’ve been holding her old clothes, because she was now wearing the dress. She walked on down the street and I followed until she came upon a coffee shop. I followed her inside. There was a small queue formed and. .. will he be OK?" - the other voice that sounds like a lute."I hope so. But coma means that we can only wait now." - the first voice answered. Now you hear that it's man's voice."Thank you, doctor." - it is... it is Jessica!Not bad. Now you know that you are not dead at least. You just should wait till... till......You wake up and see that ambient light as before. Slowly your vision became clearer and you see the ceiling, walls, the whole room.You are lying in a bright room. Jessica is sitting.