M. The dance floor was crowded, swollen with anerotic jostling of squirming loins and legs and asses. Angie had beendancing almost nonstop for the las... two or three hours. She loveddancing–it made her feel so alive, so sexy. It was dancing that let herexpress all the latent urges and frustrations that smoldered beneath thesurface of her seemingly calm and self-confident appearance. She letherself go on the dance floor as she did nowhere else, sensuouslywrithing her hips and buttcheeks in their. I wanted you to hurt me.”“I know,” he said.“You could have got it all out,” she said.“I don’t hate you, Rachel. I definitely didn’t want to hurt you.”“Even if I wanted it? Maybe because I wanted it,” she laughed.“Maybe.”She pulled away from him. “Eddie encouraged it. Jesus. How fucked up we are?”“But no other man?” Cheryl asked.“Just once. And something about it...”“Eddie maybe liking the addition too much,” he said.“I don’t know if I got that consciously. But subconsciously I must have. I told. More

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