The figure that stood maybe 100 yards away looked to be about six feettall, maybe a bit more so. He wore a black leather trench coat, gloves andboots. He had a few days stubble grown about his face and slicked back hair.With all that, and even the dark sunglasses he wore, his identity wasunmistakable.It was me....It was a moment frozen in time. Robin and I could only stand there andstare at the person we had both thought was gone forever.Could that really be my body...my REAL body...standing there? Hadn't itdied when the real Stephanie, still maddened by the device, got in somehorrible wreck.And if it really, truly was my body, was that still Stephanie still insideof it. And if so, had she too had the effects of the device wear off overtime, as they had over the rest of us left infected?Most importantly, was he the one behind the theft?That final question needed only to briefly come to mind to motivate me intoaction. Before I knew it, I was racing toward that distant figure as fast. She had been content to watch from the shadows.’ ————————————————– Tom lay on the bed. Sara was curled up asleep next to him, her head rested on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the soft press of her breasts pushed against his chest and would then retreat maintaining a steady rhythm. Her hair, long and flowing, wisped against his cheek with the slight movement and enticed his senses with her femininity. They had just made love and fallen asleep in each other’s arms. It had seemed somehow more important to her of late, pleasing him in bed. She had worn soft silk that glided over her tender skin, its very fragile hold around her frame a reflection of her fragility in his arms. He had wanted to reach out and embrace her, to hold her tightly to him and squeeze her – to smell her perfume drifting across his face, to feel her softness against his cheek, against his lips. He wanted to feel the palms of his.
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