"My boyfriend will be home soon," she stammered, and her mouth was dry, because she could feel how transparent the shirt had become and the shallownes... of her breathing."No, he won't," the stranger retorted, pricking her with the knife, but this time lower, much lower, because the knife was heading downwards from her breasts. It moved under her shirt and she gasped, because he was stretching the fabric from off her shoulders and away from her breasts so that they were obscenely exposed.He could. ”I pulled her close to me, and we kissed. It wasn’t passionate, or deep; just our lips, soft, moist, touching, brushing. After a minute or so, I did feel much better; I thanked Karen, and we went back up to the studio.“I’m sorry about that, everyone,” I said. “You sounded fantastic, Fiona; is there something else that we could try?”“How about ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’?” she suggested.This was another one that we rarely played, Mary Beth found a copy of the sheet music for me, and we played it. More

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