


                              VERITY
                               "D"



This story includes situations of an adult nature that
may not be appropriate for all readers.


Please note that all characters and situations are fictional and
provided solely for the enjoyment of readers.

Any resemblence to real persons is coincidence and strictly in the 
mind of the beholder.


===================================================================================

Synopsis: Verity is very drunk at a company Christmas party and a co-worker drives 
her home. He checks on her the next morning; they connect and begin having casual 
sex. Then, they discover a shared interest in enemas.

===================================================================================




Part I

I sat at a table surveying the mailroom. During the day  a squad of corporate 
elves had transformed it into a venue for  the company Christmas party. Scanning 
the room I realized I  didn't know any of these people. Most of my colleagues 
had  jumped ship when the merger was announced. I stayed on, mainly  because 
I could retain my seniority.  

My attention was attracted to a young woman standing  near a table of jello 
shots. I don' t know who had brought the  stack of red and green cubes but this 
lady was gulping them  down. She was petite, five foot two maybe, and with shoulder- 
length raven-black hair, pale skin and blue eyes.  

The party broke after the boss made his speech, thanking  everyone for their 
efforts and promising the upcoming year to be  both challenging and rewarding. 
I grabbed my jacket from the  rack and headed into the corner of the parking 
lot where I had  left my car.  

As I approached my stall I heard a retching sound from  near by. Sitting in 
the driver's seat of a late-model white  Saturn was the black-haired girl I 
had seen gulping the Jello.  The car's door was open and she was leaning over, 
puking her  guts out.  

"Maybe I had better drive you home," I said leaning on  her door.  

"I'll be fine," she replied, then leaned over and heaved  again. "I thing I'm 
done now," she gasped.  I reached into my  jacket and handed her a handkerchief. 

"Here..." I hoisted her from the driver's seat and  walked her around to the 
other side. "You are way to drunk to  drive."  

"I haven't had anything to dringnk," she protested.  

"You had plenty of Jello shots."  

"Jello shots ... you mean there was..."  

"Vodka ... and I saw you do enough of them to intoxicate  a small horse." I 
sat behind the wheel. "Keys, please..." I  looked at her. "Don't worry -- I'm 
as harmless as a kitten. I  just want to see you home safely."  

She rummaged through her bag and handed me her keys. I  slipped the key into 
the ignition. It wouldn't budge.  

"Did you give me the right key?" I asked.  

She looked around. "Oh my God ... this isn't my car!"  

"Where is your car?"  

"Iss aroun' here somewhere..."  

"Never mind," I replied. "Mine's over there. I'll drop  you at your place and 
we can fetch your car in the morning.  Okay?"  

"'Kay..."  

I led her to mine and got her belted into the passenger  seat. "If you feel 
like anything's coming up, tell me right away  and I'll pull over."  

"'Kay..." She held her forehead. "God I feel so  strange..."  

"Where do you live?"  

"Black Tower Lane ... number 145."  

"Where's that?"  

"Off of West Avenue."  

"I think I can find it." I put the car into gear and  headed out of the lot. 
I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a  laugh.  

"Whasso funny?" she asked.  

"I was just thinking ... what the owner of that white  Saturn will think when 
he sees that puddle of red and green barf  by his door."  

"Oh ... oh, God I feel awful."  

"You just need to sleep it off..." I glanced at her  face. She had high cheekbones 
and her eyes had a slight  epicanthic slant to them, giving her an elfin appearance. 
She  brushed hair from her face and exposed her ear.   

I turned my gaze back onto the road, but the sight of  her ear stuck in my mind. 
It came to a point -- not as pointy as  Spock's ears from Star Trek, but not 
round like normal, either.  It enhanced her elfin appearance.  

"My name's Nick," I said. "What's yours?"  

"Verity," she replied.  

"Verity?"  

"Thass right."  

"Interesting name ... unusual ... pretty..." I turned  onto West Avenue and 
watched the signs for Black Tower Lane.  

I spotted the sign and slowed. "Left or right?" I asked.  

"Left," she replied.  I put on my blinker and started  the turn. "No -- right." 

"Which is it?"  

"Right ...yeah right."  

I made a wide old-lady right turn from the left lane and  watched the house 
numbers. The homes were older bungalows with  detached garages. The numbers 
counted up ... 139 ... 141..."  

"You said 145, right?"  

"Yeah..."  

I pulled into her driveway and escorted her to the front  door. She fumbled 
with the key. I took it from her and unlocked  the door. I stepped inside with 
her. "Give me your number," I  said, "and I'll call you in the morning. We'll 
fetch your car."  

"It's..." She bolted to the bathroom and knelt by the  toilet, vomiting.  

"Wow," I remarked, "we got home in a nick of time. You  did a good job of holding 
it down..." I spotted a wall phone in  her kitchen. "Is this a good number?" 
I shouted.  

She groaned. "Yeah..."  

"I'll leave you be. Get some sleep and I'll call in the  morning."  

The next morning around eleven I punched in the number I  had copied from Verity's 
phone. It rang and an answering machine  began to pick up. Then a click interrupted 
the machine's  greeting. "Hello?" she said groggily.  

"Verity -- it's Nick. Okay if I swing by so we can pick  up your car?"  

"Can you give me half an hour?"  

"Sure."   

I hung up the phone, killed time for fifteen minutes and  then headed her way. 
It was a good half-hour by the time I  reached her door and rang her bell. The 
door opened and she  stepped out.  

"How are you this morning?" I asked.  

"Awful... My head is pounding ... I ache all over and it  feels like my flesh 
is crawling."  

"You have a hang-over." I escorted her to my car and we  drove to the office. 
"So -- first experience with Jello shots?"  I asked.  

"I had no idea someone would spike them with vodka."  

"You've reached your age and never heard of Jello  shots?"  

"Call me sheltered I guess. I wish someone had warned  me."  

"I avoid them," I replied. "They can sneak up on you."  

"I was so sick last night. I threw up four more times  after you left and my 
stomach muscles ache."  

We reached the office lot. "Do you remember where you  parked?"  

"...around here ... somewhere..."  

I pointed to a splotch on the pavement. "There's where  you left your calling 
card."  

"Oh, God... I hope no one ties it back to me."  

"They won't hear it from me," I replied, "promise."  

She squeezed my forearm. "You're a mensch, Nick."  

"That's what my rabbi tells me."  

She regarded me. "Are you really Jewish? You don't look  Jewish."  

"Are you?" I replied. 'You don't look it either."  

"No, I'm not. I grew up in Brooklyn. I had a lot of  Jewish friends and they 
all called a good guy a mensch. I guess  it stuck."  

"I'm not Jewish, either."  

"You said you had a rabbi..."  

"It doesn't disqualify me from having a rabbi -- does  it?" I pointed to a lone 
white Saturn parked against a wall on  the other side of the lot. "Is that your 
car?"  

She peered. "I believe it is."  

I drove toward it and parked beside it. Verity popped  open the passenger door 
and hopped out. "Thank you so much," she  said. "Maybe we'll see each other 
at the office."  
                              ====================
  

See each other at the office we did. Monday I had a late  lunch at the company 
cafeteria. Verity brought her tray over.  "May I join you?"  

"Certainly," I said. She set down her tray. "How are you  feeling?"  

"By Saturday night I was back to normal." She scooped  some of her lunch onto 
a fork. "I haven't seen you here before."  

"I usually take an early lunch. Today I was held up in  meetings."  

"Early?"  

"Eleven," I replied, "as soon as they open -- before all  the good stuff is 
gone."  

She looked into my eyes. "They serve good stuff here?"  

I chortled, took a card from my wallet and pressed the  eraser on a mechanical 
pencil to extend the lead. "Here ... my  extension. Any time you'd like to do 
lunch together, give me a  ring."  

She fingered the card. "Nick Steiff..."  

"I work in I.T," I replied. "That's my old card --  before the merger. I haven't 
got the new ones yet."  

"That's right -- the merger. No wonder you look like a  fresh face."  

"Okay, Verity -- now you know my last name. Time to give  me yours."  

"Lang," she replied. "I work in communications. I'm an  illustrator."  

"Verity Lang," I said and nodded. "It's a good name --  Sounds good ... nice 
rhythm to it. Not like Nick Steiff."  

"Nicholas Steiff has good rhythm," she replied.  

"No one ever calls me Nicholas." I gulped the last of my  soda. "Better be going... 
See you, Verity."  

She gave me a wave as I picked up my tray and dumped it.  
                              ====================
  

Lunch with Verity became part of my routine.  We  adjusted our schedules according 
to a compromise we worked out - - lunch at 12:15.   

"People are beginning to talk," she said at the end of  the second week.  

"Talk?"  

"That you and I have something going."  

I regarded her. "You're not attached, are you?"  

"No."  

"Me neither." I continued to gaze at her. "Maybe we need  to discuss some things 
-- on neutral territory."  

"What are you thinking?" she asked.  

"Dinner tonight at Ernies  -- my treat."  

"I'd like that."  

"Pick you up at seven."  

At seven I pulled into her drive and rang her bell. She  stepped out in a long 
coat. "Cold tonight," she remarked.  

We drove to Ernie's. "They have a great wine list," I  said; then I smacked 
my forehead.  "But -- you don't drink."  

"How much alcohol did I ingest with those Jello shots?"  she asked.  

"I wasn't counting, but a lot. Each one was probably  equivalent to a glass 
of wine -- if not more."  

"I think I must've had six or eight..."  

"It's no wonder you were so sick."  

"Well -- if I survived that I'll probably survive a  glass of wine ... just 
to be sociable."  

We arrived at Ernies and were seated. I took Verity's  coat and checked it. 
Underneath she was wearing a black evening  dress with a little sheer black 
jacket.  

We placed our orders and I asked the server to bring a  Cote du Rhone rose. 
"What's on your mind, Nick?" she asked as we  waited for our service.  

"I've been feeling a connection with you, Verity -- and  I sense the feeling 
is mutual."  

"Wow... You're direct," she replied.  

"I don't like to play games. Normally I'd avoid an  intra-office romance -- 
avoid it like the plague. Since you work  in Communications and I work for Information 
Technologies ...  well, it's almost like two separate companies anyway."  

"This is so sudden..."  

"Is it really? I've been enjoying your companionship,  Verity and I'd like to 
enjoy more of it."  

"I'll have to think about it."  

We finished our dinners, and Verity drained one glass of  rose. I claimed her 
coat and helped her into my car.   

I pulled into her drive. "I had a great time, Verity," I  said.  

"So did I... I've been thinking about it -- about what  you said."  

"And?"  

"Would you like to come in for a nightcap?" she asked.  

"You have something to make a nightcap?"  

"Not a drop." She nodded toward her door.  

I hopped out of my car, stepped inside and helped her  off with her coat. We 
gazed into each other's faces and then  kissed.  

We kissed again and again. Verity led me to her sofa. I  sat and she sat on 
my lap. We kissed some more. I traced the  line of her dress strap, down to 
the bodice and back up to her  other shoulder. Then, I slipped my finger under 
the strap and  traced the same line on her skin, all the while looking into 
her  face for a signal to stop.   

She put her hand on mine. "Before we take this any  further," she said, "a couple 
of ground rules."  

"Okay..."  

"Rule number one ... tonight ... no oral or penetration.  Fingers only."  

"Fingers only?" She nodded. "I get it -- no exchange of  bodily fluids."  

"I can't until I know someone better."  

I nodded. "Okay -- fingers only."  

"Rule number two," she continued, "you stay the night --  no love me and leave 
me."  

"I wouldn't want to leave you."  

"Then we understand each other." She led me into her  bedroom and slipped off 
her shoes.  

I unzipped her dress and lifted it from her. Underneath  she wore a black slip 
and a sheer camisole that did little to  conceal the twin charms of her bosom. 

Verity stepped out of her slip. Underneath it she had on  a black thong and 
stockings. I helped her slide her stockings  off of her legs. Then, she unbuttoned 
my shirt and slipped it  off my shoulders.  

While I undressed Verity tied her black hair into a  ponytail. Together we turned 
down her bedcovers and slid in  facing each other.  

We began kissing again. With the backs of my fingers I  stroked her breast and 
could feel the lump of her firming nipple  through the satin of her camisole. 

I unbuttoned her cami,  slipped it from her shoulders  and regarded her compact 
breast, her pale skin her heavily- pigmented quarter-sized areolas and her thick, 
fleshy nipples.  With my thumbs and forefingers I rolled her nipples, and I 
could  feel her breath as her breathing deepened.  

Verity parted her lips and began breathing heavily  through her mouth. "That 
feels really good," she panted.   

"Let me know when you're ready for me to move down."  

"Do what you're doing for now."  

I guided her hand to my chest. "I like some of the same  touch," I said. She 
began caressing and pinching me as I  continued to roll her nipples.  

She led my hand down her abdomen. I caressed her mons  through the fabric of 
her thong; then I grasped its waistband.  Verity lifted her buttocks from the 
mattress and I slid the  thong down her legs.  

I pet her dense, black bush with the backs of my  fingers. Then, I slipped my 
middle finger into her slit and down  'til I found the entrance to her vagina. 
She was very wet and I  dragged some of her juices up to the firm knob of her 
clit.  

Cradling her with my arm around her shoulder blades I  began stroking. "Oh, 
God that feels good," she panted as I  stroked her clit, counting under my breath 
to keep a steady  cadence. "It's perfect ... don't change it..."  

Verity's breathing became open-mouth panting.  I could  feel each of my strokes 
reverberate in her thigh muscles.  "More," she gasped. I increased the vigor 
of my stroking. "MORE!  Oh, God..." She moaned and panted. "Stop..."  

I relaxed on my back and Verity began returning the  favor. She stroked my shaft, 
her thumb against my glans and with  her free hand she caressed my chest. "Is 
this good?" she asked.  

"It's great," I replied. And, it was. My heart was  beginning to race and my 
breathing deepened. Verity kept up her  stroking.   

I regarded her nude form as she knelt by me -- her black  hair, pale skin and 
elfin face; her slender arms and compact  breasts. I felt my climax approach. 
I tried to hold back as long  as I could...  

Then came an explosion of sperm and a half-dozen warm  blobs landed on my lower 
abdomen. With each squirt Verity ran  her thumb along the length of my shaft 
to press it out.  

I fell limp. "Oh, my," she remarked, "it looks like  we've made a mess..." She 
procured a towel from her nightstand  and began mopping up the splotches.  

She lay beside me. "That was wonderful, Verity," I said  as I rolled to face 
her. She kissed me and then guided her  breast to my lips. I kissed her nipple. 
"Did making me come make  you horny for more?" I asked.  

"Uh-huh," she said nodding.   

I tongued her breasts and sucked her nipples. Then I  coaxed her onto her back 
and caressed her abdomen down to her  legs and up again. Verity had sweet, shapely 
legs and pretty  feet. I caressed her knees and up the insides of her thighs. 

"It may take me a little longer the second time," she  said as I began running 
my finger through her pubic patch.  

"That's okay -- I'm not going anywhere..." I eased her  thighs apart, slid two 
fingers deep into her and began stroking  the roof of her vagina. With my left 
hand I began rubbing her  clit.  

"Ohhhh...." Verity let out a low groan. She rolled her  face to one side and 
parted her lips. I maintained as steady  cadence as I could, stroking her with 
both hands.  

I glanced up at her. She was pinching her own nipples. I  watched her ribs and 
abdomen heave with her panting.  

"MORE!" she shouted. I stroked her hard with both hands.  She gasped, moaned, 
and let out a yelp; pounded the mattress and  yelped again. "Stop stop stop..." 

I lay beside her and cradled her in my arms. A deep  flush covered her face 
and chest. "That didn't take long," I  remarked.  

"No, it didn't."   

I kissed her lips and reached to switch off the lamp on  the nightstand. Verity 
cuddled against me. I kissed the top of  her head and inhaled the scent of her 
hair. Her legs relaxed and  twitched as she drifted to sleep against me.   



Part II

Dawn's light woke me. Verity was still sound asleep. I  regarded her elfin face, 
clear pale skin and raven hair.  Overnight her hair pulled back from her face 
and exposed her  ear. I took the opportunity to examine it and wondered what 
sort  of genetics would produce a shape like that.  

She stirred and opened her eyes. "Good morning," I said.  

"Good morning."  

"How did you sleep?"  

"Deliciously."  

"Any regrets?" I asked.  

"None."  

"Did we pass the fingers-only test?"  

"Mmm..." She regarded me. "Don't get your hopes up. This  is my way of getting 
comfortable with a partner."  

"You set the pace, Verity. Last night was great. I'd be  content if that's the 
way it always is."  

She cracked a smile. "I think you just passed another  test."   

"Would you like to do it again?" I asked.  

She nodded. "I think I might... What are you staring  at?"  

"I'm trying to figure out what makes you, you. Do you  have some Eurasian heritage?" 

"Beats me -- I was born in Iowa."  

"I thought you said you were from Brooklyn."  

"We moved there when I was eight."  

"So that explains why you don't sound like a New  Yorker... You're a very pretty 
woman, Verity. You have a unique  beauty ... and your ears..." She felt her 
hair and pulled it to  cover her ear. "They give you an other-worldly ... an 
elfin  look."  

I knew right away I had said the wrong thing. She  glowered at me. "Don't you 
ever use that word in my presence  again. If you do I'll kick your ass right 
onto the street -- and  never speak to you again!"  

"Gosh, Verity... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say  anything to upset you." 

"I'm a freak!" Tears welled in her eyes. "Do you have  any idea how much teasing 
I endured as a girl? I begged my  parents for surgery to fix them, but we couldn't 
afford it. When  I thought I could afford it -- every surgeon I spoke to said 
he  couldn't fix them without making them worse."  

"They're part of what makes you, you. I'm sorry -- I'll  never mention it again." 

She turned her back to me and stifled her sobs. "I'm  sorry, too. I over-reacted." 
She brushed tears from her cheeks.  "How would you feel if someone you just 
slept with singled out  the one aspect of your appearance that you detested 
the most and  said it's what defines you?"   

I pondered. "I don't know ... it might just make me feel  better about myself. 
It's not your ears, Verity -- it's the  whole, and the whole is greater than 
the sum of the parts. Why  would I want any ordinary-looking woman when I could 
have  someone as special as you?"  

She kissed my cheek. "Nice try ... you are sweet,  though."  

I stretched out, coaxed her against me and caressed her  back. "Plans for today?" 

"I have some work to do."  

"Work?"  

"I'm an artist," she replied.  

"Yes -- an illustrator."  

"No, that's my job. My passion is sculpture. I have a  studio in the basement." 

"Really? I'd love to see it."  

"I'll show it to you." She pressed her hand against her  belly. "I don't know 
about you, but I'm hungry -- my stomach is  growling. I'll take a shower and 
then make some eggs and  coffee."  

"Fine..."  

She swung her feet to the floor and walked toward the  bedroom door. I regarded 
her -- a beautiful back view. Her legs  were as sweet and sexy from this angle 
as from the front.  

Verity took a robe from a hook and headed down the  hallway. I could hear the 
shower running.  

I laced my fingers behind my neck and pondered. We were  at a delicate point. 
I was falling in love with her and I knew I  needed to be careful. And, I was 
still kicking myself for the  elf remark.  

I understood her fingers-only ploy -- and I was happy  for it. It offered plausible 
deniability. Both of us could  honestly proclaim we did not have sex last night. 

The water shut off and shortly Verity appeared, again in  her robe and her head 
wrapped in a towel. "If you'd like to take  a shower," she said, "I put out 
a blue towel for you. Also,  there are some toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet 
-- samples  from the dentist's office."  

I headed to her bathroom, showered and dried off. From  the medicine cabinet 
I retrieved a toothbrush sealed in  cellophane. As I unwrapped it I noticed 
a row of boxes on the  top shelf. Each one contained a pre-packaged squeeze-bottle 
enema.  

I picked one up and headed, towel wrapped around my  waist, into her bedroom. 
Verity sat on her bed, bent over and  drying her hair.  

"Verity..."  

"What?" She looked up  

I held up the box. "Do you use these regularly?"  

"What business is it of yours?" she replied coldly.  

"None I suppose... But..."  

"But what?"   

"I don't think you should be using these. I don't think  they're good for you." 

"Why not?"  

"These are phospho-saline enemas. Phosphates aren't good  for you -- they can 
hurt your kidneys. Verity -- this is subject  I know something about?"  

"How so?" she replied as she tossed her hair back and  began brushing it.  

"My mother is a colon therapist."  

"A gastro-enterologist?" she asked.  

"No -- a colon therapist. She has a practice  administering colonics..." I regarded 
her. "All right -- I'll  drop the subject. It's just I care enough for you I 
don't want  to think of you doing something dangerous."  

"Dangerous?"  

"Too strong a word ... potentially harmful." I skulked  back into her bathroom 
to finish my business there and then  dressed in the clothes I had worn the 
night before.  

I found Verity in her kitchen frying eggs.  "Coffee's  ready," she said.  

I poured a couple of cups and set them on the table. She  placed plates of eggs 
and toast beside them.  

"Tell me about your sculpture," I said as I sipped some  coffee.  

"I make resin figurines," she replied. "They're my  interpretation of scenes 
from classic literature."  

"Resin?"  

"Yes... I start with wax and carve the figures. These I  put into plaster and 
then cast them in a white metal..."  

"Lost wax technique?" I remarked.  

"Exactly. I clean up the metal castings and use these to  make latex molds that 
I use for casting the resin."  

"Why not make the mold directly from the wax?" I asked.  

"The wax isn't durable enough. I can re-use the molds a  few times, but eventually 
they wear out and I need to make new  ones."  

"Where's your studio?"  

"In the basement. I do my metal casting outdoors ... the  wax ignites from the 
heat and it would be dangerous to do  inside. This time of year I can't work 
outside so instead I work  on making my wax originals and casting the resin." 

"Do you sell them?" I asked.  

"Certainly -- I have a website and sell them to  collectors." She pushed herself 
back from the table and  returned with a small box. From it she withdrew two 
resin  figures about five inches in height. "These are my  interpretation of 
Heathcliff and Catherine from Wuthering  Heights.  

I examined the detail in the figures. "These are  amazing, Verity..." I turned 
Heathcliff over in my fingers. "You  say you have a website."  

"Just search for Verity's Figures," she replied.  

"This occupies your spare time?" I asked.  

"Most of it."  

I finished my breakfast and stashed my plate and  utensils in her sink. "Verity," 
I said, "I think I should be on  my way." I regarded her "I had a great time." 

"So did I," she replied. "Do you really have to go?"  

"You said you have things to do ... so do I. I don't  want us to wear out each 
other's welcome. I'll see you at lunch  next week -- we can discuss getting 
together again, then."  

I picked up my jacket and headed for her door. "Wait,"  she said. "You said 
potentially harmful. What would you suggest  instead?"  

I thought for a moment, attempting to hitch her remark  onto my train of thought. 
"You mean the enema," I replied.   

"Yes... You said you know something about them. I  thought since it was something 
my doctor recommended..."  

"How long have you been using them?" I asked. "If you  don't mind telling me 
about it."  

"Twice a week. I need them because ... well, it started  while I was pregnant." 

"Pregnant?" I faced her. "You had a child, Verity?"  

"I got pregnant when I was sixteen. I was going to give  the child up for adoption 
... but it was stillborn."  

"Oh, my God, Verity," I replied. "I'm so sorry."  

She regarded my face and touched my cheek. "You are the  first guy to respond 
that way," she said. "Most say I was  lucky."  

"It was a tragedy, Verity. I don't know how I'd get over  something like that." 

"I like how you think. Anyway, the pregnancy made my..."  

"It gave you chronic constipation -- it made your colon  lazy," I interjected. 

"Yes. My doctor said I could take an enema and..."  

"And it's been like that ever since...." I counted on my  fingers. "What must 
that be? Eight years?" She nodded. "Twice a  week for eight years. You should 
stop."  

"But I need it..."  

"Stop using those hypertonic phospho-saline things," I  continued. "There is 
a better, more natural way."  

"Which is?"   

"A plain-water large-volume enema. You fill your whole  colon with warm tapwater. 
The distention from the water  stimulates your colon mechanically -- not with 
harsh chemicals.  It's similar to the therapies my mother administers. It's 
the  treatment I use ... when I need it ... which isn't too often."  

"I wouldn't know how to..."  

"I'll tell you what," I said. "I have some of my  mother's literature. I'm working 
on a website for her practice  so I'm turning it into HTML. I'll bring you a 
copy on Monday. It  gives you all the particulars."  

"But... Saturday is my day to... Saturdays and  Wednesdays. If I don't now, 
by Monday I'll be really  uncomfortable."  

"I'll tell you what. I'll bring a brochure over this  evening. Do you own a 
fountain syringe?"   

"A what?"  

"A douche bag."  

She shook her head. "No."  

"Then I'll bring one of them, too."  

"Do you have one to spare?"  

"No -- I'll stop at Walgreen's and buy one for you.  You  can owe me. See you 
later."  

She faced me and looked into my eyes. "I don't know why  but I feel I can confide 
in you."  

"We have a connection, Verity. You can't deny it. I feel  it. You must feel 
it, too."  

"Must be."  

I embraced and kissed her. "See you this evening."  
                              ====================
  

It was five and dark already when I pulled into Verity's  driveway. A light 
snow had begun about a half-hour before. I  rang her bell.   

She opened the door and let me in. The faint smell of  some sort of solvent 
permeated the place. "Here," I said and  handed over a paper bag I was holding. 
"It's all in there."  

Verity peered into the bag, removed the brochure and  began reading through 
it. "Nick..."  

"What?"  

"Would you ... stay and help me do this?"  

"Help you?" I replied.  

"I figure you've already seen me naked... Helping me  take an enema won't be 
such a big deal."  

"...Okay..."  

"I thought I'd order pizza; then we could..."  

"It's not a good idea to take a large enema on a full  stomach," I replied. 
"Your colon and stomach lie beside each  other..." I showed her an illustration 
from the brochure. "If  the enema distends your colon against a full stomach 
you could  feel some discomfort..."  

"Oh..."  

"...or maybe even some nausea," I continued. "Right  before bed is a good time 
for an enema. They're relaxing."  

"I usually take the other kind right after dinner ... to  give my system some 
time to settle down before going to bed."  

"In that case a full stomach probably helps the  process," I replied. "Besides 
-- those don't go very far into  your colon -- and, it's only four ounces." 

"How much is one of these?" she asked, holding the  brochure.  

"An old hospital rule-of-thumb is one pint for every  fifty pounds of body weight 
... or fraction thereof. What do you  weigh? I'm guessing around one-oh-five, 
so three pints would be  about right."  

"You're sweet. I wish I weighed a hundred five ... but  three pints would be 
right ... according to your rule-of-thumb,  that is." She continued to regard 
the brochure. "I don't think I  can wait 'til bedtime. I'm getting pretty uncomfortable." 

"Let's do it now," I suggested, "then we can have  dinner."  

"Okay..."  

I opened the box holding the fountain syringe. "This is  a combo syringe," I 
said. "It can double as a hot-water bottle.  I prefer the open-top kind, but 
this has the advantage that you  can fill it and set it down without spilling." 
I showed her how  the hose fit onto the adapter plug, how the clamp slid onto 
the  hose and the nozzle. "Since you're going to need to know how to  do this, 
I'm going to let you do it now. Just follow the  instructions. It's not rocket 
science."  

She carried the gadget into her kitchen and found a  quart measure. Then she 
turned on the water in her sink. "Warm  water," she read. "How warm?"  

"It's funny," I replied, "that what feels warm to your  finger can feel cool 
to your colon. You want it pretty warm --  just to the point where it starts 
to feel uncomfortable on your  hand."  

She let the water run to warm it up, adjusted the faucet  and let the water 
run over the back of her hand. "How's this?"  

I felt the water and nodded. "You could go a little  warmer. Cold water can 
be cramping -- warm water is relaxing."  

"Like this?"  

"That's good. Put a quart and a half in."  

She filled the measure and dumped it into the bag; then  she followed with a 
half-measure and screwed on the cap.  

"Let me show you a trick," I said and popped the nozzle  off the  hose. Then 
I opened the clamp and blew into the end of  the hose to inflate the bag a bit 
and clamped it shut again.  "There -- it'll empty better if there's some air 
in the bag." I  slipped the nozzle back onto the hose and held up the bag. "Snap 
open the clamp to drain a bit of water out."  

She complied and then regarded the full bag. "It looks  like a lot of water." 

"You can hold more," I replied. "It's only a matter of  how much distention 
you can tolerate. This should be enough to  fill your colon from end-to-end 
-- enough to get the job done."  

"Okay... Now what?"  

I held up the bag. "Now we put this ... in here," I said  and touched her belly. 
Where do you take your squeeze-bottles?"  

"On my bed."  

"Grab a towel," I said and headed to her chamber. She  joined me carrying a 
bath towel.   

I looked around the room. "I don't see a convenient  place to hang this. That's 
something we'll need to address. For  this time I can hold up the bag." I handed 
her a tube of  Vaseline. "I brought some lube. Now we need access to your  bottom." 

Verity spread the towel on the bed. She stepped out of  her jeans, slid down 
her briefs and climbed onto her bed. "How  should I lie?"  

"Start on your left side ... draw up your knees. Butter  your hole with some 
Vaseline and then this goes into it."  

I watched her work her finger into her anus; then I  handed her the nozzle. 
She touched it to her little brownish- pink pucker. "How far?" she asked.  

"Up to the hilt... If you press your cheeks together you  can prevent it popping 
out."  

She slid the nozzle in. "Okay..."  

"I'm going to hold the bag about two feet above your  rectum," I said. "If it's 
under three feet the water pressure  won't exceed one pound per square inch 
-- not nearly enough to  cause any injury. Grab the clamp and open it up."  

She snapped open the clamp. "I can feel it ... cold..."  

"The water in the hose lost its heat. It should warm up  in a moment."  

"Oh, it is... What a different sensation."  

"Hold the hose," I said. "If you feel any pressure at  all, pinch it closed 
and let it pass. The secret to taking a  comfortable enema is not rushing it." 

I watched her pinch and hold the hose, then release it  and pinch it again. 
"I do feel pressure build and release," she  remarked.  

"Your colon needs to relax and unfold to fill. The lower  part is where it's 
most kinky ... and likely impacted. Once you  get the water a bit higher it 
should flow more smoothly."  

"Yeah... I can feel it."  

"Once you feel the water reach your left ribcage, close  the clamp."  

"It feels like it's there now..." She snapped off the  clamp. "Now what?"   

"Roll onto your back and get comfy ... then release the  clamp again."  

Verity rolled onto her back and adjusted her pillow. The  she snapped open the 
clamp. "Yes -- I feel it flowing in." She  touched her belly. "I can feel the 
warmth... It's not a bad  feeling ... feels kinda good, actually..."  

"Take deep, deliberate breaths," I advised. "The motion  of your muscles will 
help distribute the enema."  

I watched her chest rise and fall with her breathing.  "I'm starting to feel 
full," she said.  

"That's normal -- that's what you want to feel." I  palpitated the bag. "Your 
almost done. If it feels like you're  going to pop, turn it off. You don't need 
to be uncomfortably  full for the enema to work."  

"I'm not too full..." She ran her hands along her  abdomen, then lifted the 
hem of her tee shirt. "I do believe my  stomach is bulging."  

"That's normal, too," I replied. "You're so slim there's  not much room for 
the water." The bag emptied with a glug.  "You're done. Close the clamp and 
take out the nozzle."  

She handed me the hose and ran her hands along her  belly. "It's not too uncomfortable... 
I think I feel the warmth  through my skin."  

"If I had a thermal camera we could probably image your  whole colon."  

"What now?" she asked.  

"Hold it as long as you can tolerate. It's good if you  can hold it for five 
minutes. The longer you retain it the  better it works."  

"It feels like the enema wants out."  

"Keep holding it," I replied.  

"Enema wants out bad... I'm starting to feel  uncomfortable..." She closed her 
eyes and grimaced.  "...cramp..." She bit her lip. "...another..."  

"Are they coming in waves?"  

"Uh-huh," she said and nodded as she bit her lip.  

"That's good. The distention is stimulating motility in  your colon."  

"I don't think I can hold it any longer."  

"Then, go. Don't force it -- let it come out on its  own."  

Verity swung her feet to the floor and rushed into the  bathroom. I stood by 
the door. "I'm sorry if this is an awkward  time," I called through the door, 
"but I can call for pizza. By  the time  it's here you should be done in there." 

"Okay," she grunted.  

"What do you like?"  

"Everything ... except anchovies. That's my favorite."  

"Mine, too," I shouted through the door and placed the  call. Out the window 
I could see the snow was thickening. I  strolled around her living room looking 
at some of the figurines  on display on shelves near the fireplace.  

The bathroom door opened and Verity headed toward the  bedroom. I followed her 
and met her in the hallway. She had  slipped back into her jeans.  

"How do you feel?" I asked.  

She nodded. "Better... I think you're right -- it was a  gentler action. The 
other ones give me a burning sensation  here..." She pointed to her lower left 
side. "This one made me  feel like I was being ... cleansed. I wonder why my 
doctor  recommended the other."  

"Because it's easy enough that a chimpanzee could  administer one," I replied. 
"They're fast -- it takes fifteen  seconds versus several minutes, not to mention 
the prep time.  It's why they're popular in hospitals where time is money." 
I  regarded her. "Don't get too complacent. More might drain out of  you yet." 

"I dunno -- I feel pretty empty..." Her eyes grew wide  and she pressed her 
hand against her stomach. "'Scuse me..." She  dashed toward the bathroom.  

Verity returned shortly. "NOW I'm done," she said,  pulled up the hem of her 
tee and pressed her hand against her  belly. "I'm a lot flatter, too..."  

I saw headlights and the pizza truck pulled into her  driveway. "Perfect timing," 
I remarked. The driver delivered the  pie and I paid him. "How are the roads?" 
I asked.  

"Getting pretty greasy," he replied.  

"Here," I said and handed him a five spot for a tip.  

Verity took a two-litre bottle of Coke from the fridge  and poured a couple 
of glasses. I set the pizza box on the table  and popped open the lid.  

"I found your website," I said.  

"What do you think?"  

"I think you do amazing work. I especially liked the  Hamlet chess set ... Claudius 
as king, Gertrude as queen and  Hamlet as knight... Do you really sell many 
of those?"  

"Enough to keep me in supplies ... and to have some  spending money."  

"Your website, though..." I shook my head.  

"What's the matter with it?"  

"It looks like it's from Best of the Web 1997."  

"I created it using templates supplied by my ISP," she  replied between bites. 

"I'm sure they haven't updated their templates since  then. Verity -- I'd be 
happy to re-design it so it looks a bit  more modern. And, I know some techniques 
to lift your page rank  with the search engines -- might bring you some more 
hits."  

"You'd do that?"  

"Sure... No problem. After all, it's my profession."  

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.  "Thanks ... and thanks for 
helping me with..."  

"With the enema? My pleasure."  

"It actually felt pretty good -- and I really do feel  better afterward than 
usual."  

"You can take one of those as often as you like -- not  like the phospho ones. 
Read the box -- they say no more than one  in twenty-four hours."  

"I never noticed." She looked up from her plate. "Hear  that? The wind's whipping 
up."  

"It could be a real blizzard tonight," I replied.  

"Do you know what feels good on a night like this? A  nice, warm, soaking bath." 

"Do you know what feels really good?" I asked. "Taking a  nice warm enema during 
a nice warm soaking bath. The bathwater  supports your belly and makes it easier 
to hold. Then, once  you're done, you're relaxed inside and out."  

"Interesting," she replied. "Very interesting..." She  looked up at me. "How 
would you feel about..."  

"About helping you with one like that?"  

She gestured toward the window. "If the snow keeps up  like this you'll be stuck 
here all night anyway."  

"Oh well..." I finished my last piece of pizza. "We  should give your dinner 
a chance to settle," I remarked.  

"I have some more work to do in my studio," she replied.   

"I'd love to watch."  

Verity placed two left-over slices of pizza into her  fridge and I followed 
her to the basement. The cloying solvent  smell I noticed earlier was much stronger 
in her studio.  

She removed some small boxes from a shelf and began  prying resin figures from 
latex moulds.  

"This is the Hamlet chess set," I remarked and picked up  one of the pieces. 

"The pawns are Horatio, Laertes, Rosencrantz and  Guildenstern," she remarked. 
"I'd like to get this set in the  mail on Monday."  

"You make them to order?"  

"Yes -- that way I don't need to keep an inventory...  Oh, crap!"  

"What's the matter?" I asked.   

"The black king has a flaw ... looks like the mold has a  tear." She showed 
me the piece with a large blob on the side. "I  can't use this -- I'll need 
to make another mold." She opened a  cabinet and withdrew a white metal figure 
of the king.  

I picked it up and turned it over in my fingers. "So  this is your master..." 

"Yeah..." Verity procured a small cardboard box. She  poured latex molding material 
into a cup, added water and began  stirring; then she poured the contents into 
the box. Next she  sprayed the metal master with silicone and embedded it halfway 
in the latex. "Once that hardens I'll spray it again with  silicone and pour 
on more latex," she explained. "The silicone  will keep the two halves from 
sticking.  

She popped the rest of the figures from their latex  cocoons and lined them 
up on her workbench. "I have the white  figures done already," she said. "These 
just need to be cleaned  off.  

Verity set to work with a Dremel tool to de-burr the  figures while I wandered 
around her workshop. On a shelf were a  line of pale yellow figurines.  

"These must be wax originals," I remarked, "waiting to  be cast."  

"Yes -- please don't touch them. They're very delicate."  

I held my hands up and in sight. "This is fascinating,  Verity." I fingered 
a resin figure of Hamlet as knight. "Do you  sell these in shops?"  

"There is a craft shop in town that carries a few of my  pieces."  

"I belong to the local art center. They have a shop that  sells original artwork. 
You should talk to them about showing  your work. In fact, I know the guy who 
runs it -- I could put in  a word."  

"I don't know," she replied. "I'm comfortable with the  amount of work I have 
now."  

"I understand. If you put on a show and it doesn't take  off -- it's merely 
a failure. On the other hand if it DOES take  off, it's a disaster."  

"Exactly."  

"I've been involved in projects like that..."  

She stood from her bench and removed the magnifier she  had worn around her 
head. "Well -- they're ready to ship ... all  except for Black Claudius."  

"Can you get him done tomorrow?" I asked.  

"Doubt it. The latex needs to harden for twelve hours  ... then I need to pour 
the other half and then it needs to  harden for twelve more. Looks like this 
won't be ready to ship  'til Tuesday ... at the earliest." She pressed her hand 
against  her stomach. "Do you think I've digested enough?"  

"Probably..."  

I followed her up the stairs. "Why don't you run your  bath. I'll get the enema 
ready."  

"How much does that thing hold?" she asked.  

"Two quarts ... a generous two quarts. I have one just  like it at home. That 
one will hold two and a half -- but I've  had it for a while and the rubber 
has gotten relaxed. Brand new  they hold two quarts and a skosh. I'll put two 
quarts into it.  You don't have to take it all."  

I heard the water running her bathroom as I filled the  bag in her kitchen. 
Then I took a couple of hangers from her  bedroom closet and carried them into 
the bathroom.  

Verity was in her robe, leaning over the tub as it  filled. I hung a hanger 
on her shower rod, threaded the hook of  the second one through the loop on 
the bag and hung it from the  first. "There," I said. "Self-supporting."  

Verity regarded the bloated bag. "That is rather  daunting-looking," she remarked. 

"Remember -- no one will be cross with you if you can't  take it all."  

She turned off the tap and took a foil-wrapped object,  peeled it and dropped 
it into the water. "Bath candy," she said.  "It softens the water and smells 
nice."  

I watched the table fizz as it dissolved. "Smells good - - what flavor?"  

"Lily-of-the-valley." Verity slipped the robe from her  shoulders and  dipped 
her toe into the tub.  

"Wait a minute," I said and handed her the tube of  Vaseline.  

"Good idea..." She squeezed out a dab and greased her  opening. Then she stepped 
into the tub and eased herself into  the water. "Mmm..."  

"Would you like me to scrub your back?" I asked.  

"Would you?"  

"Certainly..."   

She pointed to a loofa on the side of the tub. I dipped  it into the water. 
Verity leaned forward and I began making long  strokes up and down her back. 

"What luxury," she sighed. "It's been so long since  anyone's scrubbed my back 
for me..."  

"Let me know when you're ready for your internal bath,"  I said.  

"Okay..." She stretched out in the water with her knees  bent and held out her 
hand.  

I pointed the nozzle toward the tub and snapped open the  clamp. "I didn't flush 
out the air -- so we wouldn't lose any  warmth."  

"How warm did you make it?" she asked. I pointed the  nozzle at her and drizzled 
some water onto her chest. "Nice and  warm..."  

She took the nozzle, lifted up and reached between her  legs. "Okay..."  

I handed her the clamp. She snapped it open. "Warmth  feels good..."  

"Clamp it down a notch," I advised, "so it'll last  longer."  

"Good idea..." She laced her fingers behind her head.  "It's flowing in so much 
easier than the first one."  

"You're quite a bit emptier than the first time."  

"I can feel the warmth reaching deep inside me ... feels  good..."  

"Any cramping at all?" I asked.  

"No -- none. I'm starting to feel full."  

"No need to make yourself painfully full."  

She ran her hands along her belly. "I'm definitely  getting bigger. Can you 
see?"  

"I certainly can."  

She grabbed the clamp and stopped it down. "How much is  left?"  

I pinched the bag. "Between half and three-quarters of a  pint," I estimated. 

"I'll rest a bit and then see if I can take any more.  You're right -- this 
does feel soooo good ... the warm bath ...  the warmth of the water radiating 
through my body. I feel  fullness but it's not uncomfortable at all."  

I watched as she ran her hands up and down her abdomen.  Then she reached for 
the clamp. "Maybe I'll try a little  more..." She snapped it open and then throttled 
back the flow a  notch.  

"Roll to your right," I said. "That'll put the furthest  reaches of your colon 
downhill. Go slow and everytime you  exhale, relax your belly to make room for 
the water."  

She rolled halfway on her right side and then snapped  shut the clamp. "I'll 
rest a minute..." She felt her stomach.  "Definitely getting full..."   

Verity unsnapped the clamp again, and then clamped it  shut. Her belly was now 
visibly distended. "I think that's it."  

"Only a couple ounces left," I reported  

"In that case..." She snapped the clamp wide open and  the bag emptied into 
her. She closed the clamp, removed the  nozzle and handed it to me.  

"You did it -- two quarts."  

She patted her stomach. "I am so full ... so full..."  

"Lie on your back," I said. "When you're this full you  can follow the structures 
of your colon." I led her fingers  along the bulge of her sigmoid colon on her 
lower left side, up,  across and to her cecum on the right, distended like a 
football.  

"I think I'd better go," she said. "My stomach is  feeling a little upset." 

"Imagine what it would feel like if you were full of  pizza." I gave her a hand, 
helped her from the tub and wrapped a  towel around her shoulders. "Let me see," 
I said and she modeled  her bloated abdomen for me. Then she headed for the 
toilet and  opened the lid.  

"I'll turn down the bed while you're in here," I said  and closed the door behind 
me.  

I hadn't realized how stimulating watching her take the  enema had been, but 
my shorts were starched. I slipped out of my  clothes, turned down the bedcovers 
and lay on her side to warm  it.   

The toilet flushed and Verity stepped into the bedroom  in her robe.  "Oh, God 
I feel so good," she said. "The bath, the  warmth ... it's all so relaxing. 
This one came out so much  easier -- in torrents. It felt so good."  

"Expelling one is half the fun," I remarked.  

She pressed her hand against her abdomen. "My stomach is  flatter than I can 
remember. I feel empty and relaxed and ready  for bed."  

"Not ready for love?"  

"Who said the two were mutually exclusive?" She untied  her robe and slipped 
it from her shoulders. Underneath she was  wearing a short and very sheer nightgown. 

"Wow," I remarked. "Where did that come from?"  

"I had it tucked away."  

I sat up with my back against the headboard and patted  the mattress between 
my legs. She settled against my chest.  

I ran my hands along her raven hair and gathered it so I  could nuzzle the base 
of her neck. She reached up to make sure  her ear remained covered.  

I kissed her neck and caressed her cheek with the backs  of my fingers. "I love 
your skin," I said. "It's so clear and  fair..."  

"Too fair," she replied. "I look pale and wan ... pallid  -- and I can't tan. 
I always burn."  

"And I love your eyes ... pretty blue... Do you know who  you look like?"  

"Who?"   

"Bjork -- the singer from Iceland. She has the same  Eurasian-looking eyes." 

"They're miserable for using eye-shadow," she replied.  

I continued stroking her hair. "I love your hair, too,"  I said. "So shiny and 
smooth and jet-black..."  

"I wish it had a bit of wave to it," she said. "Why is  it that you like the 
things about me that I don't?"  

"You're wrong -- I like everything about you, Verity.  I'm in awe of your artistic 
talent. I can't do anything with my  hands."   

I pushed back her hair to expose her earlobe, nibbled it  with my lips and she 
giggled. "You like?" I asked.  

"It's silly..."  

I ran my finger along her hair to expose all of her  elfin ear and gently tongued 
it, while cupping my free hand over  her breast. "I love your breasts," I said. 
"They're the perfect  proportion for your frame ... and don't tell me you wish 
they  were larger."   

"I don't -- I like going braless."  

I found her nipple and squeezed it. "And you have such  pretty nipples ... the 
pigment is so striking against your fair  skin..."  

"They turned brown during my pregnancy," she said. "And  they never turned back. 
I had a dark line from my navel on down,  too ... it eventually faded but it 
took years..." I continued  rolling her nipple and tonguing her ear. Verity's 
thighs jerked  and she drew in a deep breath. "Oh, God ... the bath and the 
enema ... made me soooo horny..."  

"It made me horny, too."  

"You were wonderful in there ... the attention ... I  liked feeling your hands 
on me..."  

"I liked feeling my hands on you, too." I untied her  nightgown and opened the 
bodice to expose her small, firm  breasts. Her breathing deepened as I rolled 
both nipples between  my thumbs and forefingers, and I could feel her heart 
pounding  under her flesh.  

She leaned forward and slipped out of her gown. I took  it from her and lay 
it across the foot of the bed. Then I  supported her in my left arm and slipped 
my right hand between  her knees, smoothed it up her thigh to her slit and began 
stroking her clit.  

Verity approached orgasm rapidly. She was clutching me  and I could feel her 
nails digging into my shoulder. Her  breathing became wide-open-mouth panting. 
"Don't stop!" she  gasped. Maintaining a steady rhythm I ramped up the pressure 
on  her clit.  

A flush reddened her pale cheeks and she let out a moan.  I continued stroking 
her. Her legs were shaking. She yelped and  pounded the mattress.  

"Stop," she panted and I lifted my hand from her mons.  She continued to clutch 
me and panted to regain her breath.  "God, that was good," she gasped.   

I helped her sit, cross-legged on the bed. She threw her  arms around my neck 
and we kissed. I put my hand oh her thigh,  slid it up to her mons and slipped 
my finger into her slit and  against her clit. She groaned and held me tight. 

I lay on my back so she could return the favor. Verity  knelt beside me, wrapped 
her hand around my very stiff member  and kissed it. She squeezed out a blob 
of slippery clear fluid  and with her finger spread it onto my glans.  

Then she mounted me. "Where are you?" she asked and I  guided my glans to her 
entrance. She lowered herself onto me and  I pressed myself deep into her. "Mmmm..." 
she moaned. "This  feels sooo good..."  

I locked my legs with hers and held her across her  shoulder blades and the 
small of her back. We kissed and kissed  again, our tongues exploring each other's 
mouths.  

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.  

"I'm savoring."  

I began a gentle rocking of my hips. She joined into the  action with complementary 
thrusting and rotating of hers. I held  onto her across her back, and began 
exploring her buttocks with  my right hand, running my fingers along her crevasse. 

Her anus was still slick from the Vaseline and my  fingertip slipped in. I pushed 
my finger in  part way and began  an in-out as she thrust against me.  

Verity doubled and doubled again the vigor of her  humping. I could feel her 
breath on my face as she panted. I was  trying to hold back my own climax 'til 
she had hers but I knew  it was a losing battle. Then she moaned and I could 
feel her  sphincter pulse around my finger.  

That did it. "Oh, Verity," I grunted as I clutched her  buttocks,  pushed into 
her and ejaculated. She lifted up on her  elbows and cradled my head in her 
hands. "Verity -- I love you."   

"I know you do... I love you, too."  

We kissed again. She rolled off me and retrieved the  towel from her nightstand 
and we cleaned each other off.   

"Did we come together?" I asked.  

"We might have."  

"Why not fingers only tonight?"   

"After today -- I know what I needed to know."  

"I'm not fooling with you, Verity. You're the woman for  me."   

"I know ... and that's what I needed to know."  

I looked up at the ceiling of her room. "Oh, God..."  

"Oh, God what?" she asked.  

"I certainly hope you're on the pill."   

"I certainly am," she replied. "I've been on it ever  since the one time I was 
pregnant."  

"Once burned, double shy?"   

"No -- once pregnant screwed up my periods. Now I'm on a  prescription that 
gives me only four a year."   

She cuddled up to me under my left arm. I stroked her  hair from her face, exposed 
her ear and traced it with my  fingertip. It was the first opportunity I had 
to closely examine  it.  

"I see what it is," I said. "The cartilage in your ear  shell doesn't go all 
the way 'round. It stops here and comes to  a point."  

"I told you -- I'm a freak," she replied.  

"I love the way it looks," I said. "It makes you so much  more special ... and 
beautiful ... in my eyes at least. Please  promise me you won't cover them while 
we're alone together."  

"I don't know ... we'll see..." She drew in a deep  breath. "Mmm... I am perfectly 
relaxed ... I feel like I'm  melting. I don't want to move ... I want to stay 
here all  night." I held her and caressed her arm. "Nick?"  

"What?"  

"How would you feel about moving in with me?"   

"Well... My lease isn't up for renewal until June. We  have some time to see 
how things work out."  

"I have a feeling they'll work out just fine..." She  drew in another breath. 
"Mmm..." She closed her eyes. I could  feel her body go limp and her legs twitch 
as she drifted to  sleep.   


                              ====================


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