.. our bodies slapping together... our ragged breathing, the grunts and moans of pleasure, our wet, sloshy suction sounds as you slide in and out of m... echoing against the walls of the bathhouse... you lean forward to kiss me, muffling our moans. I feel almost drunk, so oblivious to anything else besides the sounds and the feelings I'm experiencing. I feel you pick me up and carry me into the shower, adjusting the water temperature a little before pinning me against the wall, my legs snaking. Still, she continued to ask. Once again, her hands lifted and she spoke in the only way left to her, spiderlike digit forming words and sounds, darker than dark eyes speaking volumes when even fingers failed her. Why? A shrug, nothing more. Her disappointment was silent as she turned away and walked across the checkered field, across alternating squares of virgin snow and black ice, the soles of her feet as numb as her heart. Tomorrow she would ask again. And the following day. And the one. More

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