She wrapped her arms clumsily about him like clubs, too tired and angry for fingers and hands, pulling him close to her. ‘That’s it, honey,’ he ...aid, over and over. ‘Cry it out. Cry it out.’ They lay like that for some time, and finally her arms softened and her hands pressed against him as the shuddering sobs slowed. She leaned away from him and said, slowly and sloppily, ‘I need a Kleenex.’ ‘I’ll get one,’ he said. He looked around. ‘As soon as you tell me where they are.’ ‘The dresser,’ she. I can still remember some of them even today — the parted thighs and the soft curving flesh above the stocking top leading right down ( or up!) into the gorgeous gusset and the unseen hairy mystery inside … how I would love to kneel in front of her and touch those silk-clad knees and gently open them, parting her legs, opening them, spreading them wide — and stick my head up her skirt and just BREATHE. That would be enough! Just to smell it, breathing it down deep into my lungs, my BALLS… The. More

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