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Picnics in the country.

.. us... oh god!!

I didn't bother looking in the mirror. It's not pretty when I'm crying or just afterward. I hung up the towel, turned off the light, and headed to bed. Bed... our bed. Alone again -- naturally. Remember that song? I have no idea when it was popular. I remember hating it -- thinking it was desolate and icky. I can't tell you why my mind dredged up that memory at this moment in time. That bitch of a conscience of mine is probably responsible. I sighed.

I love you, Kara. I hope you're well; I hope you're safe. I miss you. My chin buckled. Please come home, lover.


I felt you against me, soft, warm, perfect -- mine! I wondered for a blink of a second how you got here. That you were in our bed made all of the rest not even close to relevant. I smiled, wiggled my butt, and begged for sleep to take me.

It seemed you had other ideas. Your fingers and lips were insistent. I purred deep in my throat and put my right arm behind your head. Your hand slithered from my breast, teasing me. I waited for your warm breath in my ear -- but there were no words spoken. Totally okay, lover. The feel of you, your touch, your mouth on my neck -- god, it's so good.

Fingers continued their journey over familiar terrain. I tried to turn to my back but you used your hip to keep me on my side. I sighed. Those fingers did the most glorious things to hills and valleys that had missed your touch. I knew where you were headed but waited, as patiently as I could, for you to slip past the crest of my hip.

I pivoted slightly, opened my legs as wide as I could, and gave you what I knew you wanted... what I so desperately wanted. I shivered as your fingers reached your prize. I cried out as you circled my clit lightly, dragging a finger nail slowly north to south, then circling around and around.

"Kara, lover, please... take me. Fuck me with those glorious fingers." I felt your smile; you nodded. You bathed me in kisses as your hips pushed against my ass. Your fingers teased me, doing what they knew to do to a body they knew all too well. I moaned as a need I hadn't known since late August burned deep in my core. It exploded like a starburst as your fingers pushed into me. I bucked as I shivered, helpless, thankful, in your grasp, yours -- again.
"Please don't leave me, lover. Don't let this... this thing, be the end of us." You laughed; a cold, dead laugh. Just that quickly it left me. My eyes fluttered open in the next instant. My body trembled as the last of the orgasm screamed through me. I was confused, somewhat satisfied, and desperately unhappy.

I blinked. I felt my heart slow. I wondered just how much was real and how much was imagined. The familiar flush was all too real as was my heart rate. If asked I would have sworn that I heard your words, felt your touch, and all the rest. How? How much does our conscience -- or is it our subconscious -- control? Kara? Becky?? Bette?? Bette!!!!

I sat up, shaking. What would possess me to say that name? Good god!! I looked at the clock -- 12:45 am. Geez, it can't have been more than an hour. I shook my head. Why on earth did all that feel so real? Was my body trying to tell me something? God forbid -- was my conscience? Becky is super cute. No, I don't know much about her yet. She's pretty, funny... sigh. She's not Bette. What the fuck! I meant to say she's not Kara. How did that bitch worm her way in here? Worm -- that's such a perfect definition, too. I sighed, shook my head, and closed my eyes.

** November 24th **


The week was generally quiet. I would like to report that I had gone to work out every day since last Sunday. Once I had left work, the train would get me from downtown to my station in less than 30 minutes. Next was a 15 minute drive to the club. A workout took about an hour. I'd get home, shower, have dinner and be able to relax by around 7:30.

Why do I bring all that detail up now? 7:30 meant I could read for a couple of hours, or watch TV on Tuesdays, before heading to bed.

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