Most nights, he dreamed of walking and running, even dancing though he had never been one to willingly get on a dance floor. He dreamt of stairs and l...dders, of new shoes and old boots. All the things he supposed that anyone who had lost a limb would dream about.He also had dreams about Kat. The way she smiled and ran her hand through her closely shorn hair. The sheer poetry of Kat in motion on the training mats, the way she moved from attack to defense and back again with exquisite grace. So. My head swam, it was him, Anthony. My perfect Anthony. My baby-sky-blue eyes, my tan dark skin, my muscle pumped Anthony was going to enter my virgin body and take what can’t be brought back. He plunged in and I didn’t feel anything. I was drunk still, I guess. He pumped slowly in and out, slowly because as he cursed beautifully how tight I was, he became faster and faster. I finally couldn’t take it and came again. I screamed out, I didn’t know what was happening except I couldn’t take in all. More

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