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Show All the Variables & Other Love Stories 86 to linger and coo. They lied in bed begging her to come back, but she stood over them with their neatly folded clothes in her hands insisting they go. Her heart lurched at the crumbling mantel of them, the crestfallen look of their eyes that said she'd used them. Lindsay adored these boys, all of them, especially Feste who dropped his facade and became all gentleness and firm sincerity while making love to her. She pointed at where Travis had split his lip, "What happened there?" "Male bonding," scowled Feste. She kissed him and his lip was better. "Any more?" she asked, and Feste showed her the bruise on his knuckles where he'd cut himself on Travis' septum-ring. She kissed the neat row of them, one by one, and made them better. So sweet she nearly wept, and so sharp and hot he cut a smooth line straight to the center of her, and she trembled to be so full of warmth and gravity and dick. He drag her earlobe between pierced lips and ran his fingers through her hair and said, "Oh, baby." Lindsay loved when boys called her baby. She absolutely loved it. She looked at Feste with new eyes after that, she'd had no idea something so beautiful could be in him. A Childe's Pilgrimage Kell didn't see any of the Rachmaninoff concert. He ran late and arrived at Abravenal Hall after the doors had been closed, and an usher told him he couldn't enter until intermission. He didn't mind. The lobby was empty except for a handful of Utah Symphony volunteers, the first symphony, and its chaperone. |
