Years ago, back home, my sister and I were playing in the hay loft and as siblings sometimes do, we got into a pushing match. Being older and bigger, ...he advantage was mine. Giving her a shove, she stepped backwards, slipped and fell over the edge of the mow. Her hands grasped a loose board and she hung from a 20 foot drop, her brown eyes were wide in fear and she pleaded softly, ‘Please help me.’ I pulled her to safety that day, but it was the quiet ‘look’ of desperation which I remember most.. He imagined tapping on the door connecting their rooms, identifying himself as the Troubador. And in his imagination she had fallen into his arms.The hips behind her flexed again and the pleasure exploded deep inside her again. She moaned and they flexed again.She couldn't believe how forward she had been. She had picked up her telephone without thinking of what she was doing and dialed his room. A very pleasant baritone voice answered and she asked why the Troubador hadn't said hello to Susan.. More

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