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Nothing. He promises to come back to reality, get his head screwed on straight again, suck it up. He does ok for a while but then the numbness starts to wear him down and he lets himself drift. This week is particularly crappy – it’s his birthday. At this time last year he could be with her everyday. If not in person, over Skype. If not over Skype, then in notes and recordings he made to know she was smiling because of him. If not in writing, then he could remember her smell and taste and hear her laugh in his head when he went to sleep at night. Those memories are starting to fade, it might make more sense to let them go but he knows he would rather hold on to them for as long as possible, maybe forever. Hell, some days it feels like it never even happened. He pulls in to get the mail – sorting over the trash he tosses the flyers, tucks the bills under his arm, and glances down at the last envelope. It’s handwritten. What the hell? No one writes letters anymore – maybe it’s from an. Dinner was fantastic. We all got along so well and after quite a few drinks I really started to relax. I starred at James across the table. I couldn't help it. Even though I knew he was forbidden, he was everything I wanted in a man - sexy, strong but gentle, kind, funny and so caring. He caught my eye and smiled shyly as if he knew how I felt. I lifted my foot and gently stroked his thigh, watching him squirm. Claire was oblivious to what was going on. The conversation continued but I was concentrating on something else. As I moved up his firm thigh I felt his cock stiffen at my touch - god, how I wanted him. I stroked him until I could see he couldn't stand it any more and he excused himself. Feeling how hard he was made me so wet, I shifted in my chair as my knickers became uncomfortably damp. I had to have him. Claire had made a lovely dinner but it had obviously exhausted her as she went to bed as soon as it was over. James, Rob and I sat on the sofas with more drinks. So.
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