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Clara's top was open, her bra loose, and Peter was at her breasts like a famished four-month-old. Clara knew it was time. The bedroom door was ajar. The bed within was calling to her, louder every time Peter gathered her breasts together. She moaned and said, "Peter, God that feels so good." Peter moaned back. "You know…..oh yeah, do that some more, right there…..I think I'm really beginning to fall for you." Peter's mouth left her breasts and he kissed his way up to her neck. He ran the tip of his tongue around the hollow of her throat and then very deliberately dragged it, the touch light and tantalizing, to the side of her neck. "I know, Clara," Peter whispered. "I feel the same way." Clara groaned and Peter brought his mouth back to hers. Between kisses Clara said, "I really want to find out where a relationship between us could go. I'd love to find out where a relationship between us could go." Peter pulled back. "Relationship? Clara, I, uh, I don't know I'm really ready for. It was as though there had sprung up between us a link, a chord, a tightly stranded thread, a link that triggered – at least at my end it did – thoughts of slipping my arm around her, pulling her towards me, using the other hand to ease her face closer, close enough to kiss. It was nothing but sheer lunacy! There I was, sitting in a partially darkened hall, just one amongst an audience of around two hundred people, imagining I had somehow made connection with a woman I had never seen before – and imagining her allowing me to begin to make love to her… But that’s exactly what was going, all too uncomfortably vividly, through my suddenly totally bewitched and absolutely besotted mind. When the interval came I hurried out to the foyer, hoping against hope that she too might appear there – perhaps to greet some friends, but hopefully not family! But I was to be disappointed, although the youngsters did come through to receive congratulatory hugs from justifiably proudly adoring.
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