Laila often went to London, to visit family, but this time, she came on her own, as a little summer break. She loved London, because everyone was so o...en, free and liberal. She thought that at least one man would like her; how romantic would it be for a man to whisk her off her feet on the tube, or swoon her near the River Thames...But Laila was daydreaming again and she couldn't concentrate. She was sat outside, in cafe, with a creamy frappachino on the table, her legs crossed, the novel. And the storm rages...” She closed her eyes and her back arched. “Ah! Ah! Yes! Yes! The storm ... subsides...” She quivered, and a flow of her juices slid along my tongue and into my throat – tasting of strawberries and the fresh smell of dew on the grass. My hands cradled and cupped her athletic rump, holding the Silver Lady to me as I drank form her as a man pulled from the depths of the Morbihan might drink from a cup. “And yet there is lightning. Nnnh. There is shadow. The storm! It howls. More

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