He captures my laughter with his mouth, his tongue, his breath; laughter has always been part of our interludes. For a moment we just rest there, brow... touching, sharing our breath and smiles. Wordless. There is no need to speak, we have long since passed the time when intimacy needed verbal communication. His hand strokes down my side, finding all those places I love being touched, those places special only to my body. His fingers massage soothingly over the faded imprint the bra strap has. After five or more minutes I called out to her asking if she was okay.. Colette called back saying, "I'm great, you can come in now!" I entered the room and saw a huge birthday cake with what must have been over 50 candles -- much greater in number than my 22 years. It was then that I could make out three nude figures sprawled over the back of Colette's long couch. Asses in the air and shouting, "bon anniversaire!" the girls giggled to each other shifting position slightly in the candlelight. I. More

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