She put her head on my shoulder. Her hand slid off my thigh and into my lap, paused. She kissed my ear, lingered there. "And what are you afraid of?" she whispered.
"Afraid you'll stop," I said against the moist spread of her lips.
"I couldn't," she answered, falling back on the divan, taking me with her. "Not for a long, long time," she said beside me. She took my hand and guided it beneath her sweater to the warmth of bare breast. "Feel my heart," she said. "I'm a fast train on a down track to nowhere. And my heart says 'Couldn't stop-wouldn't stop-couldn't if I would-wouldn't if I could . . .
