But why do that? The scoundrel deserved to sweat. She’d already acknowledged coitus interruptus was a huge new experience for her and an unpleasant...one because she hadn’t been sexually satisfied, her emotions had been laid bare and she’d suffered a bit of an ear-bashing by a lover so earnest-faced that he looked like a teen-age preacher. She laughed at the absurdity of that image, and felt a lot better. Sipping coffee, light opera wafting into her senses from one of her quieter CDs, Sierra. Overjoyed and desperate, she ran through the creaking gate, slid on all fours over mud and autumn leaves up the dark garden path, near collapsing at the mansion door as she realised just how exhausted she had become from the last three hours - caked in mud and muscles aching.Now, soaked through to the skin and further, she tries to renew her strength and lifts her balled fist to knock once more.Before she can make contact with the door it opens a slither, and a young man's blue eye peers. More

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