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My hair, my long lucious pride has betrayed me and has joined forces
with what wraps me, holds me, displays me. I hear the blood's rush in
my ear and this keeps me company. I vow not to count heartbeats, not
to guess or anticipate the time. The temptation is strong. How long
has it been? How much longer until dawn? One... two... three..
Sixt--sensation! The lightest of touches, but something touched me. I
arch my back in a vain attempt to reach someone, something. I feel
nothing nothing more. A sigh escapes my nostril, audible in my inner
ear. That's it! I can still hear myself, even if I can't speak. I
wait for another eternity, then count twenty heartbeats, and hum a
moan.
My left ear buzzes with the sound of a thousand scratches. A jet of
cool air rushes to cool my sweat-coated skin. Then a warm, moist
feeling traces some shape. Wet sounds, followed by a sugar-sweet,
playful-cat-sneer voice, "Our little pet is not quiet, is umm? Our
little pet wanna moan, is um?" The tongue flicks in to touch the hairs,
not even the skin. It flicks again, this time at the lobe. Wet,
moist, lovely lips caress the node, tugging gently. The tongue flicks
again. I moan, arch my back and curse my hair.
Suddenly,
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