He turned to see Beccah trying desperately to stifle her giggles. One purple petunia had become dislodged and was perfectly affixed in Drew’s hair. ...he plucked it off, smoothed his tousled hair and directed him to the bathroom to wash up. When he entered the kitchen, Beccah was bent over the oven, basting a roast. Her backside looked so inviting in the short black skirt she was wearing. Drew just stood in the doorway smiling at the view, until Beccah spun around, catching him in the act. She. Incontrovertibly human. Mammalian. A long-forgotten attractant, but no less potent. Greedy and insistent, he forces himself to be more deliberate and calm. Finger tips provoke a plaintiff noise from her throat as they open her further.He inhales again. And pushes his face into her. Imprecise at first, he’s simply satisfying a need. It’s not elegant. But it doesn’t need to be. This is for him. Her noises: louder. Less coherent. Her movements, such as her shitty-but-effective straight-rope-mess. More

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