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April had gone to high school together. Bespeckled and soft-spoken, Tyne knew he was hardly April’s initial idea of the man she wanted to wake up to every morning. Too sturdy, too dull, April used to say. Thank God, she’d changed her mind, realizing in time that love might hurt you on occasion, but it wasn’t supposed to kill you.
    Tyne stood up in the tub, water dripping, suds clinging, and caught her image in the full-length mirror hanging on the door. She studied herself to see what a stranger would see. All the self-love books she had ever read stated that love begins with acceptance of all of one’s self, including the physical faults. So she guessed she should accept the slight saddlebags of her hips and the scar that ran along her arm—a souvenir of a bad motorcycle fall; her mother had made sure her father locked up his Harley after that. She looked at her breasts, the way they curved upward, and appreciated that gravity hadn’t gotten to them yet. As for her behind, it was nicely rounded like some men seemed to appreciate. Her waist, although not small, was in proportion to her hips and chest. All in all, she had a more than passable body.
    But she was a sister who didn’t take booty calls, so her nights were solitary. There had been a few boyfriends in the past, but those relationships had been merely fillers; she had known at the onset she wouldn’t marry any of them. Put off by the strain of her last thing with Raymond, she’d been celibate for a couple of years and was used to waking up alone. That seemed to be her fate; so be it. She cared, but she wasn’t going to languish waiting for someone to come and fill her life, her bed. There were other ways to satisfy herself.
    Still, the loneliness seemed to be manifesting itself in these strange dreams. Maybe Gail was right; she needed to get laid. Maybe the dreams would go away if she worked off some of her tension.
    Tyne stepped out of the bath and toweled herself off, trying not to think of the many times she had orgasmed these last nights. It wasn’t normal, having dreams so vivid, so sensual, they made you come and come hard. Dreams so vivid, they frightened you. How could she desire something, or someone, that frightened her, that made her tremble with yearning and fear? More frightening was the knife that had begun appearing in the dreams lately.
    She put on her nightgown and walked to the bedroom. She opened the curtains to let in the illumination from the streetlights below and a bright quarter moon above. Total darkness was no longer a comfort. She popped open the tranquility sound machine she’d purchased on the way home and flipped in the tape labeled “Rain Forest.” The soothing rhythm of a light rainfall filled the room. As her head settled into the pillow and her eyes closed, she envisioned herself standing alone under the dripping fronds of lush, tropical trees, felt the warm rain spray on her body, enter her pores, open her up. She was falling, falling…
    The dinner table was gone. It was just him now. She felt herself opening up to him, her resistance giving way. First one, then two, three fingers eased inside her, then moved up her wet canal while a fourth lightly stroked her clitoris, sending spasms through her body. Her vibrating walls sucked the fingers deeper into her eager crotch, and she began bucking against them, working her body to their rhythm. Lips touched her nipple, then a tongue began tracing the sensitive orb, circling it slowly, keeping time with the fingers moving in, out, in, out. A scent of male musk hovered in the air, mixed with the scent of her excitement…
     
     
     
    He smelled her scent, bent down to taste her wetness, felt her hips rise, pushing her moist, sex-scented lips against his eager tongue, felt her moving in time with his rhythm.
    His tongue moved inside her, teasing her walls, tasting her cream, his lips pumping against her vulva. He heard her moan and it filled him. But just beneath the