. "I smiled. "Nor did I, really. I actually just sort of fell in with them. You may remember that I was *not* in the best frame of mind when last you ...aw me... "=-=-=I absent-mindedly rubbed at the faint white lines where stitches used to be. I was slowly fighting my way back from a suicide attempt... a failed one, obviously. I had been discharged from the hospital about a week or two ago, but counseling didn't seem to be helping. Aside from one interesting thought -- the thought that, since I. So I wrote her a story. And this is what happened.I booked into Prestonfield House, a very beautiful, and wildly expensive hotel in Edinburgh, and made sure that not only had they put a bottle of chilled champagne on ice in the room, but I'd paid them to get their florist, Maxwell Flowers, to make a beautiful arrangement of flowers in the room too. The blooms were perfect, just emerging, and their scent filled the suite with their erotic charge.I'd also arranged with the staff that we would. More

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