“What time is your flight?” “9:00” he says. I look at the clock. 7:00. “Kyle, you have to go! We don’t even have time for…you know…one...more?” “I’m sorry, babe. I overslept, had to rush through the shower. And I hated to wake you, you looked so beautiful.” “Next time please wake me. I can’t stand this,” I say, choking back tears. He places a hand on each side of my face and presses his lips to mine firmly, yet very sweetly. Then he kisses my forehead and hugs me to him again. “I have to go,” he. I know she thinks I live in Amsterdam, as my official address is indeed there. In practise only during weekends.Rose has hardly any idea about the fourth form of our intimate contact: I noticed her stories here. I knew whose.I know that the matter is delicate for many reasons. I need to take my time to play my cards as carefully as I can!Rose is good at school as talented at sports. She is central attacker in field hockey in female first team of her town.I know she likes when I take the trouble. More

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