Poor Lisa wasn't very attractive. I was sure that she was beautiful on the inside, as they say.I spent Sunday morning worrying and drawing. I made the...simplest of all drawing type. One bottle of ink and half a dozen pens allowed me to make my art. Well that and a couple of thousand dollars worth of technology. I still had not mastered freehand drawing. It really didn't matter, I was a damn fine draftsman. The art, if there was any, lay in the making the picture come to life. That's what I told. I woke in Aunt Mary's bed wrapped in her sweater and nothing else. My body was sore in many places. I went to take a hot shower as I contemplated what had happened during the night. I knew it was not a dream, yet I was not awake. I couldn't tell anyone I thought I saw Edward but wondered if he would come back to me again. The sex was better than any I'd had before. I came harder the second time last night than I had ever done. I reached between my legs as I remembered the feeling of. After the first dram, came the second. And then he did not count anymore.Her insides had been febrile for a good many days. Since those kisses, to be precise. The purest and the most sensuous experience she ever indulged in her life. Not that she listed a legion with which to compare it. The little prior moments she counted told her something special took place in the study.It cast her in a state of yearning completely foreign to her. The night after the kisses became a sweaty toss-and-turn. The dull thud of her pulse began to pound in her ears like a symphonic surge with the music and before she could contemplate her thoughts or calculate a response, she realized she was walking away from the scene, pushing past sweaty dancing bodies, reactive in the only way she knew how. As a fight or flight response, her first instinct was to escape.Fuck him, she thought to herself angrily.Moving through the resistant crowd, she was almost near the girl’s bathrooms when she collided with a hard.
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