Neon colors. Garish colors. A Stetson wearing girl in cutoffs works her way through an amber bottle. A turquoise ocean dotted with sailboats. An old...red pickup, shining like new in the sunlight. An ivory mask. Playing cards. Bat-orchids. And a mural of painted bullet holes spanning out a length of text: Welcome Home The paint is congealed and wet and the images seem to pull from the walls like slippery specters. Something catches my eye. I uncurl from the stool with a whimper and drop down. He searched about for the place of sensitivity. He had learned that with Rose the sensitive spot was never the same. Her aroma and taste in her arousal always pleased John's senses. His tongue struck Rose's clitoris and it danced over it in a joyous reel. She was rushing to orgasm. John pressed in a little harder and slowed his tongue to a waltz. Rose crested with a high-pitched sigh and John felt a deep satisfaction.He wiped the wetness from his face with his discarded pajamas that he found. More

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