Disclaimers: The characters in this novel are of my own creation. That’s right, this is an ‘uber’ story. Some may bear a resemblance to characters we know and love who are owned by PacRen and Universal Studios.

Violence and Naughty Language Disclaimer: Yup, both. And quite a lot of each, to be truthful. This takes place in a prison, and where there are criminals, there’s gonna be violence and naughty words.

Subtext Disclaimer: Yup, there’s that too. This piece deals, after a fashion, with the love and physical expression of that love, between two adult females. There are some graphic scenes located within this piece, but I have tried to make them as tasteful as possible so as to not avoid anyone’s sensibilities. Let me know if I’ve succeeded.

Serialization Disclaimer: When I first started writing and posting, I made a promise to myself, and to anyone who read me, that I would never post a work that wasn’t finished. I detest serialization, normally. But . . .this novel, which is one week from being finished, is becoming very long and I’ve had readers write to me stating that they won’t read novels because they just don’t have time to sit down and read such gargantuan works. So, I compromised. This piece is finished (very nearly) and will go up at regular intervals so that the folks who like to read in small chunks can do that and the ones who like to read the whole thing can do that too.

The next several months went by quickly for me. The continued positive news from the appeal front kept my mood up even if it did seem, at times, that the wheels of justice Donita had spoken of were mired in quicksand and sinking fast.

One early summer morning, I sat in the cool dimness of the library, excitedly turning a gaily wrapped package over in my hands while pointedly ignoring the demanding over-the-glasses look I was getting from Corinne. I had been waiting for this particular package for almost two months, almost fainting in excitement when I’d heard from a friend that it suddenly became available at an estate auction. My excitement doubled when I found out that it was, amazingly, within my budget.

"A Thousand and One String-Bead Art Patterns," Corinne muttered from her darkened desk.

"What?" I asked, inwardly grinning at finally having the chance to turn the tables on my oh-so-in-the-know friend.

"The name of the book you’re holding like some kid who got into her parents’ Penthouse collection."

"What makes you think it’s a book?"

"Oh please, Angel. Give me some credit, at least. I’m a librarian, for Moses’ sweet sea-parting sake. Or didja think all these square things with pages in between them were decorations." Her hand flicked out from it’s shadowed corner, its gesture encompassing the entire library.

Oh, I’d definitely gotten her dander up, alright. And I was enjoying every moment of my innocent little torture session. "It could be a box, you know. A flat one, filled with all sorts of interesting little goodies."

"Those little goodies are called ‘words’, Angel." She leveled her best ‘no-nonsense’ glare at me. "They form sentences, which in turn form paragraphs. Unless, of course, it’s a book of poetry, in which case, they form nothing at all."

"You’re such a romantic, Corinne."

"I have better uses for this mouth of mine than spouting poetry, my dear Angel." Her tone was absolutely dripping with seduction and, considering her age, she did a good job at it. To my credit, though, I stopped the threatened blush cold. When she saw her ruse wasn’t going to work, she frowned, eyeing me once again over the tops of her half-glasses.

Giving in just a little, I leveled my own parental expression right back at her. "You know, the word ‘please’ has been known to work on occasion."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," came her prim reply.

"Then I suppose your curiosity is going to have to suffer." I turned the package around in my hands, making sure the indirect lighting caught the foil wrapping at just the right angle. I’d grown up in a house full of cats as a child and well knew how to entice them.

Minutes ticked by, measured by the under-her-breath grumbling Corinne was turning into an art form. Finally, she huffed out a sigh that would have done Paul Bunyan proud, almost toppling a stack of papers as it did. "Alright. Angel, dear, may I please know what’s in that wrapped little package of yours?" Her voice was positively overflowing with sugared sweetness. "I’m afraid my poor old heart will simply explode out of my chest if you don’t tell me right this very moment."

As heartfelt pleas went, that was about the poorest example I’d ever heard, but, knowing Corinne, it was probably the best I could hope for. I allowed myself a small victory smirk as I turned my attention her way. "This little ol’ thing?" I asked, hefting my prize.

"Angel . . . ."

I burst out laughing, unable to help myself. After a moment, she joined me and the quiet air was soon filled with boisterous laughter. After a long moment, I looked back at her, flipping the package in my hands. "You’re right, of course. It is a book. A rare one, actually."

"And?"

"It’s an original printing of ‘One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich’, signed by the author himself, and you know he didn’t do autographs. It’s in Russian."

Corinne’s eyes widened in awe. "Amazing. How’d you manage to come on to such a prize?"

"An estate sale, if you can believe that one. One of my outside contacts dabbles in literature. He saw it and asked if I wanted to bid on it."

"And, of course, you said yes."

"But of course. It came in well under my budget too. Apparently, there just wasn’t any interest."

"Philistines."

"Hey, I’m not gonna look a gift barbarian in the horns."

"Good analogy."

"Glad you liked it." I grinned, shifting on my chair. "Anyway, like I said, it’s in Russian. Problem is, I don’t know whether Ice reads Russian. And before you ask, yes, it’s for her."

Her eyes twinkled. "Had that one figured out already. And don’t worry, I think she reads it. In fact, I’m almost sure of it."

"I don’t get it," I replied, shaking my head. "She became a street kid right out of elementary school. Yet I saw the Tao, written in Chinese, mind you, sitting on the floor of her cell. And it looked like she had read it quite a bit. How could she have learned so much living on the streets?"

"That part of her schooling took place before she went to live on the streets, Angel. Her mother, as an opera singer I think, was an absolute fanatic about other cultures. Ice told me that she was taught to read other languages at the same time she was taught to read English. It was just something that her parents believed in."

"That’s interesting," I replied, hoping that my voice didn’t sound as envious as my thoughts were.

Apparently, it did. Corinne took off her glasses and looked at me, smiling slightly. "Ice was quite young when she shared this with me. I suppose she looked upon me as somewhat of a grandmotherly figure." She moued her lips in self-deprecation.

I instantly felt the sting of embarrassment. "I’m sorry, Corinne. I’m just glad that you were there for her. It must have been hard, especially in the beginning. I’m glad she could turn to you when she needed to."

"She didn’t do it all that often. But yes, there were times even the famed Ice needed comfort." She smiled knowingly at me. "I suspect that’s true even to this day."

I made sure my answering smile gave away little and she nodded in acknowledgement.

"So, is there a special occasion for this lovely little gift?" she finally asked, tone rich with innocence.

I couldn’t stop my blush from rising this time. This day was an anniversary of sorts for me, as well as for Ice, though she probably didn’t think the date significant. It was a year ago to this very date that I had helped the inmate team beat the guards in softball, and a year ago this very date that Ice and I made love for the first time. It was something that was very important and special to me, but damned if I was going to give Corinne the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead, I simply looked at her and silently pleaded the Fifth.

She smirked at me, but decided against pursuing the issue. Instead, she went back to the work her curiosity over my package had interrupted. Silence descended over the library once again.

Several hours later, the time for dinner had finally arrived and, like a schoolchild on the last moment of the last day of school, I shot out of my seat the second the clock struck 5pm. Corinne laughed knowingly as, in my excitement, I almost batted my prize off the table, just managing with quick reflexes, to save it from falling to the floor.

I shot her a glare, but my heart wasn’t really in it. It was with a certain tall, dark woman who, that very moment, should have been closing up shop and on her way to a rendezvous with me in the cafeteria.

After waving quickly to Corinne, I grabbed my package and slipped out of the library, striding as quickly as I could down the hallway while still trying to look like I wasn’t striding quickly down the hallway. Not an easy task, let me tell you.

The prison square was filled with a sea of orange as inmates fresh from their daily labors bustled to and fro, some on their way, like I was, to the cafeteria, others congregating in small groups near the walls, and still others headed for points unknown. The incoherent babble of voices was loud to my ears as my eyes sought out a dark head that towered over the rest.

Not seeing her with the first visual sweep, I swallowed a pang of minor disappointment and headed toward the cafeteria, figuring to meet her there. As I was almost to the doors, a large hand clasped my elbow and I whirled. My pleased, welcoming grin faded as I looked up into Sandra’s hazel eyes.

"Hi, Angel," she said, "I’m glad I caught up with you. Can you come with me for a second, please?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Regardless of our seeming friendship, she was a guard and I was a prisoner under her control. So instead I nodded as she released her grip on my arm.

"It’ll just take a moment," she assured me.

I looked around vainly one last time before turning to follow her back the way I’d come, my bright hopes for the evening starting to dim just the slightest bit.

She led me through the crowded square, past the guard room, and down toward the visitors’ room, which was closed for the evening. Turning left just before the visitors’ room, she led me down a shorter hallway toward a guarded exit door. Though this was another area of the prison where I’d never been before, I knew where that particular door led and my steps slowed almost to stopping.

Not noticing my hesitancy, Sandra continued down the hallway and spoke in low tones to the guard stationed there before turning to me. Her look of expectancy turned to one of puzzlement when she saw me still standing at the end of the hall. She beckoned me closer.

"Um . . .if it’s all the same to you, Sandra, I’d kinda like to know what it is you need from me out there?" All sorts of warnings were jangling through my head. Sandra might have been the head guard, but even she had to report to Morrison, who most likely wasn’t too happy about my successes in the possible appeal department. If I were to be released some time down the road, a very large card the warden was holding against Ice would disappear right along with me.

As if she divined my thoughts, Sandra’s look of impatience softened to one of compassion as she smiled and walked back over to where I was standing with what I’m sure was a ‘deer in the headlights’ look on my face. She laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Angel, there’s nothing funny about this, I promise you. I just need your advice on something. It won’t take more than a minute."

I looked in her eyes, not finding even a trace of deceit within their depths. Still, I’d learned my lessons the hard way and wasn’t about to easily repeat past mistakes, especially if they could wind up getting me injured or worse. "Can you at least tell me what’s going on?"

"I know this doesn’t sound all that great, but it really is easier if I show you." Then she smiled. "Tell you what. All you have to do is stand next to Barbara right here at the door. I can show you what I need to outside and if it seems safe to you, you can join me, alright?"

I looked over at the other guard, who nodded reassuringly to me. After a long moment, and against my better judgement, I nodded back.

Sandra grinned and squeezed my shoulder before turning back to the guard and getting her to unlock the door. It opened inward slowly and I got a quick glimpse of the fenced in area before Sandra’s large body obscured my view as she stepped outside into the warm summer air.

The sunlight streamed back in as she walked further away from the door and up the short wooden steps to the door of what I knew was the conjugal visit trailer. I watched as she inserted a key into the lock and pulled the door slowly open, peeking her head inside as she did so. After a second, she pulled back and, to my great astonishment, Ice’s head replaced hers in the doorway. Smiling almost sheepishly at me, Ice jerked her head back, beckoning me on.

A thousand scenarios rushed through my mind, none of them good. Keeping with my brutally honest tone here, I must admit that my first thought, given Ice’s unexpected location, was that Donita was also in the trailer with her and that they’d chosen this relatively private place to finally tell me that they had rekindled their romance. A huge part of me denied this thought, but insecurity can be a harsh master and right now, it was controlling my emotions. I froze where I was, trying to decide whether to go forward and have my worst fears confirmed, or run as far and as fast as I could to hide from the truth that my fanciful mind had conjured from thin air.

Sandra turned, smiling and waving. Damn them, I thought. Damn them all to hell. How can they be laughing when my heart’s breaking? When the second guard, Barbara, murmured "Go ahead, Angel," from right next to me, I almost ripped her eyes out.

Then, forcing the more adult side to my personality to the forefront, I squared my shoulders, swallowed painfully, raised my chin, and stepped outside. Walking those few yards from the prison to the trailer was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do.

Consciously releasing my clenched fists as I walked up the rickety wooden steps, I brushed by Sandra without looking at her, and stepped, with a firm tread, into the small trailer. As I slipped into the cool interior, my eyes did a quick, accusatory scan, slowly adjusting to the dim lighting within. The trailer was otherwise empty, though I didn’t rule out my erstwhile lawyer hiding out in the bathroom, such were the turbulence of my thoughts at that moment.

When I looked back to Ice, really seeing her for the first time since I’d entered the trailer, my mouth opened wide in shock. Gone was her customary prison jumpsuit. In its place was a deep blue robe that looked like it was made of silk on satin. It had bold golden embroidery on the cuffs and sash, and ended at mid calf. In the ‘V’ of the robe, I could see a lighter blue camisole in a sheer but not quite revealing material that stopped just at the swell of her magnificent breasts. Her hair was glossy clean and loose as it fell across her shoulders. Her legs and feet were bare and one hand cupped a single red rose, which she held out to me, smiling gently.

Taking a step closer, I tried to blink away my tears. "Ice? What . . . ?"

"Happy Anniversary, Angel."

I took the rose and brought it to my nose while cupping my hand over my mouth to stifle the sob that was waiting to come out. As I inhaled the delicate, wonderful fragrance, I damned myself for seventeen kinds of fool for believing that Ice’s feelings for me were somehow shallow and convenient until something better happened along.

Resolving not to ruin the moment with my histrionics, I pushed all negative emotions to the back of my mind and resolved to enjoy the precious gift I’d been given. My self-chastisement was further halted by an embarrassed clearing of the throat and when I turned to the door, I saw Sandra standing half in and half out of the trailer, her face darkened by a blush.

"I think I’ll leave you guys alone now. Have fun." With a smile and a wink, she turned and left the trailer, locking the door carefully behind her.

I looked over Ice, who was still smiling at me, though her eyes were full of questions. "Is this . . .alright?" she asked, a rare note of hesitancy clear in her voice.

"It’s perfect," I babbled, "just . . .god it’s absolutely wonderful."

"Then why are you crying?" she asked softly, not moving from her place beside the small table set into one of the walls.

"God, I’m just . . .it’s . . .I’m happy," I finally ground out. And bewildered. And embarrassed. And so totally in love with you that I think my heart’s about to burst.

Cocking her head, she looked at me. "Are you sure?"

Placing the rose down on the table, I ran into her arms, wrapping myself around her and squeezing tight. "I’m sure. One hundred percent, absolutely, positively, heart swelling sure."

She engulfed me in her embrace, laying a gentle kiss to my hair. "Good. I’m glad." I could feel her sigh against my chest. "I remember once you mentioned that you’d give anything just to be able to spend one night together. I figured that you didn’t really mean spending it in an infirmary with burns and smoke inhalation, so I thought this up."

Stunned, I pulled away. "You mean we have this all night?!"

Smiling, she nodded. "Yup. It’s all ours, so to speak, till noon tomorrow."

"God I love you!" I exclaimed, pressing her to me once again. Her low, rumbling laugh vibrated through my ear and put an answering grin on my own lips. I inhaled again, smelling something beyond the scent of the rose and Ice’s warm, intoxicating presence. Opening my eyes once again, I peered down on the table, which was covered with a variety of instantly recognizable white boxes. I pulled away, astonished. "You got Chinese?"

Ice laughed again. "Best I could do under the circumstances. Hope you don’t mind Kung Pao chicken."

"Are you kidding? I love Chinese food!" Truth be known, after three years of barely recognizable prison fare, Ice could have served dog food on a stick and I probably would have been happy.

"Good." When she pulled away, I detected a slight blush of color on her cheeks as she looked to the bed. "I thought you might be comfortable in something other than your uniform for the evening, so . . . ."

Following her gaze to the bed, I gasped out loud. There, colors bold against the clean white sheets of the bed, lay a shimmering forest green floor-length robe. Next to it lay a beautiful dressing gown with spaghetti straps and a demure neckline in a lighter shade of green that deepened to aquamarine near the hemline, which was also floor-length.

Walking over to the bed, I reached out a shaking hand to brush against the fabric, feeling the exquisite softness against my fingers. A tear dripped from my face to land, sparkling, on the silken fabric. I brushed it away, then picked up the dressing gown, holding it against my body and watching the highlights shimmer down its length. I turned wide eyes back to her. "This is so beautiful, Ice!"

She gave me a little cockeyed grin. "I’m glad you like it. If . . .you wanna try it on or anything, the bathroom’s right off that little alcove over there."

I tracked her pointing finger, spotting a half-shadowed doorway sitting to the right of the main room. "Yeah, I’d like that a lot. Be back in a minute." Lifting the robe from its place on the bed, I made my way to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

The bathroom was well appointed for being in such a relatively tiny trailer. It even had a small stand-up shower that looked much cleaner than the shower in the prison. "Oooh," I whispered to my reflection in the small mirror over the sink, "I think I’m gonna take advantage of this situation too!"

Quickly stripping out of my jumpsuit, I reached into the stall and turned on the shower. Surprise of surprises, there was actually hot (well, tepid might be a better adjective here) water coming from the showerhead! Stepping in quickly, I grabbed the new bar of soap and proceeded to take my first warm water shower in over three years. I was in heaven.

After loitering about for a bit, I finally shut off the water and stepped out into the cooler air of the bathroom, grabbing a large, fluffy bath towel and drying myself off with alacrity. One of the good things about having short hair is that drying is a comparative breeze, and so with a thorough toweling and a bit of finger-combing, I was set.

Taking in a deep breath, I held up the gown, pressing the soft, shimmering fabric against my face and inhaling the clean, fresh aroma while feeling the smoothness glide against my cheeks. I groaned in sensual pleasure before pulling it away and slipping it over my head to let it fall, in soft waves, down my body. It was a perfect fit, but I didn’t stop to ponder how Ice could have known that.

Settling the straps over my shoulders, I chanced a look in the mirror, awed to stillness by the image looking back at me. Gone was the scared little girl that had come into the Bog three short years ago. In her place stood the woman I’d become with the experience. The color of the gown deepened the green of my eyes, making them somehow wiser and more knowing. The maturity came across in my short, tousled hair and the new lines of experience painting my face. The gown’s straps sat smoothly on my newly muscled shoulders which bore the weight of my world without complaint.

Yet still, I felt somehow a fairy tale princess all done up in silk and satin. As I pulled the robe on over me, letting the cool fabric slide sensually over my bare arms, I smiled, feeling pampered and cared for and very much loved.

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed the fabric over my body, then opened the door and stepped out into the main room of the small trailer.

Ice was sitting behind the table, her long fingers drawing what I was sure were abstract designs on the Formica. When she saw me, her eyes widened to my secret delight and she gracefully came to her feet, her own clothes shifting with her movement in a most pleasing way. A smile softened the angles of her face and lit her blue eyes from within. She was, at that moment as in many others past and future, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

She echoed my sentiments, holding an arm out toward me. "You’re so beautiful, Angel," she almost-whispered. "Like your namesake, come to earth."

I stepped toward her, grasping her hand, which she lifted to her lips, brushing a soft kiss against my knuckles. Then she escorted me to the other side of the table, where she pulled out the chair and aided me into it with flawless grace and impeccable manners. I had never been treated with such care before and I must confess that I reveled in the attentions.

Walking over to the other side of the table, she bent down slightly and retrieved a tall bottle and a couple of glasses. "Champagne," she said, turning the label toward my sight. "Not the best vintage in the world, but beggars can’t be choosers, and all that." Popping the cork, she filled both glasses with the bubbling, amber liquid, then handed one to me across the table. "Cheers," she said, raising her class to softly clink against mine.

I took a sip of the liquor, feeling it tingle as it washed down my throat. Not being a champagne connoisseur, I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to taste that way or not, but it was good as far as I was concerned. I grinned over the rim of my glass as Ice set her own down and proceeded to open up the white cartons. Intoxicating aromas wafted up on the steam that escaped its confinement, making my mouth water and my stomach chime in its opinion.

Two chipped, but clean, stoneware plates received their bounty and Ice passed one over to me, together with a set of chopsticks and a cellophane-wrapped package of plastic utensils. I smiled and set the plastic-ware aside, having developed the skill of eating with chopsticks when I was still quite young.

Not much was said over dinner. The food was delicious and I appreciated it as only a prisoner or a college student can. My taste buds tingled their thanks as my mind busily recorded every nuance of the flavors hitting my palate for future remembrance.

When my stomach finally rebelled against having even another morsel packed inside, I pushed my plate away and leaned contentedly back in my chair, patting my belly and grinning at nothing. Surely royal feasts hadn’t been as well appreciated as was this simple dinner.

Ice, who had finished long before me, picked up the plates and stacked them in the tiny sink that shared space on the wall with the table. When she turned back to me, she had something else in her hands that was neither food nor drink.

Stepping around the table, she presented it to me with a smile that was almost shy. I took it, open mouthed with awe. In my hands was a tiny bonsai tree carefully and wonderfully shaped into an angel. Tied around the miniature trunk was a tiny yellow ribbon of the type used when loved ones are far from home.

Tears, those ever-present distorters of my vision, sprung once again to my eyes as I looked on the gift she’d created for me. "My God, Ice," I blubbered through a throat choked with tears, "this is so beautiful! Thank you so much!"

"Do you like it?"

"God, I love it! It’s wonderful!" I carefully turned the ceramic planter holding the tree, looking at the exquisite artistry from all angles. It was absolutely perfect. "You have such a wonderful talent, Ice."

I was sure I caught an embarrassed blush that time and I grinned, partly to put her at ease and, I’ll confess, partly in happiness at having finally caught the normally unflappable Ice with her proverbial pants down. "You do, you know," I said, finally. "It’s a gift. One you should treasure as much as I do." Carefully setting the tree down, I captured the hands that had created such beauty and urged her down, capturing her full lips with a kiss of thanks that quickly turned to something deeper and more primal.

After several moments, she pulled away and cupped my cheek, smiling down at me, her eyes sparkling and warmed from within. "I love you, Angel."

"I love you too, Ice. So very much." I reached under the chair where I’d stowed my own gift and handed it to her. "This is something for you, obviously." I felt my own shy smile spread my lips.

Taking the package, she carefully pried open the folds and slipped the book from its paper confinement. Her smile lit up her whole face as she looked at the object in her hands, opening it almost reverently. Her look became one of shock when she saw the author’s signature on the front leaf. Her wide eyes met mine and I knew that I’d done alright.

"He’s never signed his work," she breathed softly, disbelieving.

I shrugged modestly, though my pleased grin told the real story. "I got lucky."

"I’ll say. This is fantastic!"

"I’m glad you like it." I scratched at the back of my neck. "Um . . .I’m not sure if you read Russian."

"Oh, I do." Flipping quickly through the pages and smiling like a child on Christmas morning, she carefully closed the book and set it down on the table, then reached down and clasped my hands, bearing me to my feet and into the circle of her arms.

She engulfed me in a hug, lowering her head so that her lips just brushed against my ear. A shivering tingle shot all the way down to my toes as she murmured a phrase I knew had to be in Russian. Though the language was guttural to my ears, her low, purring voice galvanized me.

"What . . .what did you just say?"

"’I want to make love to you, my sweet Angel. May I?’" she translated, capturing my earlobe between her lips and teasing her tongue along my flesh in slow, sensual strokes.

My knees turned to pudding.

She chuckled low in my ear as her strong arms easily bore my weight. "Is that a yes?" she teased.

"Ohhhh, you betcha."

Somehow, I managed to regain the strength in my legs and stood up tall. Ice smiled down at me, her teeth flashing in the dim lighting. I felt a slight tug, and when I looked down, I found that Ice had untied the belt to my robe. Her hands were warm as they slid within the parted fabric to rest gently on my hips.

Her head slowly lowered until her lips met mine in an explosion of warmth and desire. Her hands roamed over my hips and downward, grabbing the mounds of my backside and pulling me into her body, melding us as we kissed.

Her fragrance was intoxicating as my starved senses pulled it in on uneven, panting breaths.

I pulled away just enough to untie her robe, then slid my hands inside the folds of the garment, needing to feel her body beneath my palms and fingers. My bold exploration revealed a waist-length camisole and French-cut briefs, both in the finest of silks. I nearly died of wanting her, my need was so intense.

We finally broke off the kiss by mutual consent and I looked up into eyes darkened and half-lidded with arousal. The tip of her tongue peeked out to taste her lips and I found myself tightening at the sight.

Her large, gentle hands with their tapering fingers reached up and slipped the thin straps from my shoulders, laying intimate caresses to my bared flesh as she stared deeply into my eyes.

My own hands joined the ballet, grasping the hem of her camisole and lifting upwards. I broke our gazes as my hungry eyes feasted on each inch of flesh revealed to me as the incredibly soft fabric slid away.

Her hands came away from me as she lifted her arms above her head, aiding me in my task. Her breasts became exposed to my ravenous gaze and I licked my lips at the sight of them. When I could go no higher, given the vast difference in our heights, she took over and pulled the top off, shaking her hair free in a totally unconscious gesture that threatened to take my legs out from under me once again.

I had to have her. That very minute. I could no more stop the raging in my blood than I could stop a flood with my bare hands.

Placing my hands on her hips, I guided her backwards until the edge of the bed bumped against her calves. I kept pushing, lowering her to the bed, and then onto her back. Releasing her, I took a step back, admiring the artistry before me. The white of the sheets and the white of her briefs stood out in a sort of stark purity against the deep tan of her skin and the raven black of her hair which fanned out across the pillow in turbulent waves. The dichotomy was intoxicating.

Taking a deep breath to restore a modicum of equilibrium, I slid my own gown off slowly, teasing her as she had always teased me. Her gaze was rapt upon me. I could see her nostrils flare in the semi-darkness. I grinned wildly.

Finally I stood naked before her, swearing that I could feel trails of fire where her scorching gaze lit upon my flesh. I started to tremble as I felt a dampness between my legs which had nothing to do with the sweat that suddenly broke out across my body.

Stepping up to the bed, I crawled aboard, straddling Ice briefly before coming to rest between her body and the cool wall behind me.

I managed to pull myself up to sit cross-legged on the narrow bed, my knees just brushing against the warm, soft flesh of Ice’s side. I looked into her eyes again, catching the slightest hint of a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. It filled my heart to overflowing.

I tracked down her body one more time before meeting her eyes and locking in, smiling softly. "I love you, Morgan," I whispered, reaching out a finger and brushing it across her lips. She pursed them slightly, kissing my finger, before relaxing them into a smile that matched my own.

My finger traced across her lips once more, then outlined her sharp cheekbones before smoothing against her expressive brows and up to her high forehead, brushing the fringe of hair back from her brow. My touch was gentle and undemanding and filled with as much love and devotion as I could possibly give.

I traced around the delicate shell of one ear, my smile deepening as I saw a shiver make its way down her long body in the periphery of my vision.

I had fallen into the clear ocean of her eyes and could not break away if my life depended on it. I saw so many emotions running through those eyes. It was as if I were seeing into the soul her body held in its keeping.

My fingers continued their meandering journey as I mapped out her body by touch alone, my eyes only for her eyes, our breath coming together. I slid down the strong, elegant column of her neck, tracing over corded tendons and skimming over a pulsepoint which bounded out a welcome.

Her shoulders were next, and then the warm, moist valley between her breasts. Her eyes darkened more as I brushed against the sensitive underside of first one, then the other, feeding me her emotions through the intensity of her stare.

I circled nipples which were hard and straining for my touch, brushing over them ever so lightly and watching her lips part as a single, almost silent, sigh escaped from between them.

I traced lower, over the soft down that covered her belly, rising and falling over the bands of muscle girding her torso.

My hand reached the lace band of her briefs and her chest expanded with the sudden breath she took. I dipped a finger teasingly beneath the fabric, running it along the seam from one hip to the other and then back again.

Removing my finger, I continued my journey downward, skimming over the silken material until my hand moved to cup over her. Her thighs spread involuntarily, and when my fingers slid over the smooth, hot, wet curve of her body, her hips jerked as she moaned, sharing her pleasure through her heated gaze.

I could feel her readiness through the silk of her briefs and I hummed in anticipation of what I was about to do.

My finger dipped in again, though this time it was beneath the band of her right leg. A sound almost like a whimper came from her lips as I came closer to the place we both needed me to be.

God, she was so wet and open that I almost passed out from the hunger of needing to possess this gift beyond price.

I painted my fingers in her desire, never once breaking the lock of our gazes, the look of her pleasure tearing through me like a wildfire. Her eyes glowed with an inner light, sucking me in deeper against my conscious will. With every stroke of my finger, I felt as if the touch were upon me as well and my body responded, helplessly pulled into the tide of her want.

I entered her quickly, helpless to do anything else, and she hissed out a breath as her hips responded to my thrust, bucking up against my hand, impaling herself further while capturing me and holding me close.

Together we worked into a rhythm, staring so deeply into one another’s eyes that it was as if we were but one soul sharing two bodies, both of which were aflame with need.

"Yes," I breathed as I watched her climb the peak of our mutual creation.

Her eyes grew heavy lidded.

"Don’t close your eyes. Don’t shut me out. Share with me. Please." I used my voice in tandem with our shared movements, bringing her up and setting her free to soar.

She fed me her climax through open eyes which drilled into me and took me with her on her flight to the heavens. My whole world became the blue sky above and the sea below with nothing else from horizon to horizon. It was a soul-shattering experience; her vulnerability and total openness to me in that bright second the most precious gift I’d ever been given.

As our breathing began to steady, I noticed that the vast blue ocean had prismed with tears. My heart jumped up in my throat and I tucked down close to her, gathering her in my arms and sprinkling her face with tiny kisses. "Oh no, don’t cry. Oh, god, please don’t cry, Ice."

She didn’t make a sound. Sobs didn’t shudder through her body. Her tears were silent ones. But she responded to my fervent embrace, holding me almost convulsively as the tears scalded the skin of my neck.

After a long, silent moment, the world whirled around me and I felt myself pressed flat on my back, pinned in place by six feet of aroused and passionate prisoner. Her mouth met mine without gentleness and I tasted the salty tang of tears on her lips as her tongue deftly wove its way around mine.

There was an urgency to her movements as I felt her reach down and jerk the briefs from her hips. When she settled back down against me, straddling my leg, I groaned aloud at the heated moisture liberally coating my thigh.

Ice grunted in reply, her hand sliding quickly down my body, her weight shifting slightly so that my thighs parted wider beneath her. Her fingers worked their way between our sweat-glued bodies as she continued to kiss me with a feral, primal intensity that might have been frightening if it hadn’t been so arousing.

She pulled her lips from mine at the same time she entered me, burying her face in my hair and groaning as she thrust deeply into me, using the weight and motion of her entire body to add power to her movements.

I gasped as I was suddenly filled, squeezing my eyes tight against the invasion, moaning deep in my throat with the pressure and feel of her long fingers stroking and thrusting against me.

Sweat liberally coated our bodies, making us slide against one another in an effortless, erotic dance. Ice kept tempo with her soft grunts in my ear. My moaning entreaties added a melody line. My heartbeat was loud in my ear. Her murmuring, first soft, now guttural, even louder.

Her strokes became long and hard as she bucked against me, rucking the sheet up under my shoulderblades and knocking the pillow to the floor of the tiny trailer.

I urged her on, wanting, needing more. Always more. I was so close. I could see the precipice painted on the inside of my eyelids.

She responded instantly, surging into me, her whole body in motion. Her soft grunts gave way to sharp pants and I knew she was nearing the edge. At what seemed the very last second, she slid another finger into me, stretching me wide, filling me completely.

I knew the second she went over. Her body shuddered down its sweating length and her hand convulsed, claw-like, within me as her sharp teeth sunk into the muscle of my shoulder. I cried out.

Her fingers pressed hard against the very spot I needed them to be and I took off like a rocket, my own wracking shudders all the more sweet for being subdued beneath the weight of her heavy, muscled body.

With a last, low, protracted growl, she slumped full on me, her breath gasping out against the sweat-soaked skin of my neck.

Pleasant spasms continued to spark through me as the motion of her breathing caused her now limp fingers to move deep within me, touching off tingles of sensation that rose to the crown of my head and fell to the tips of my toes.

I sighed out my bliss and she responded by nuzzling closer, kissing the mark she’d made on my shoulder before burrowing into the fall of my hair and cleaning the sweat from my neck with long, languid strokes of her tongue.

"Oh, sweet . . .Jesus," I whimpered as her fingers withdrew from me to move up and caress the slickness, stroking me gently, but with a surety that was intoxicating to my befuddled senses. I turned my head, needing desperately to connect with her.

She latched on to my lips, kissing me with a tenderness that was the antithesis of our previous coupling, yet no less arousing because of it.

Shifting again, she came up onto all fours, straddling my hips with her knees planted on either side, all without breaking the heart-stopping kiss or her tender, erotic stroking.

In a show of supreme control, she lifted her free hand from its place beside my head, and captured my hand, sliding it down her drenched torso to where she was all heated openness for me. Releasing my hand to continue on its own path, she collapsed down on her elbow again, moaning softly into my open mouth as I explored her softness.

I mirrored her movements against me as best I could. I must tell you, though, it was very hard. She seemed to have my entire body under her seductive control. I felt like a marionette in a puppet-show for adults.

I stopped trying so hard and gave my hand free rein. When she gasped and surged against me, I knew my instincts had been correct. I didn’t have time to gloat, however, as her touches turned more insistent and coaxing.

My own sounds of pleasure filled the cool night air.

The end came quickly. We were both too ready for it. I climaxed first and she positioned herself over me so that she could get what she needed from me during that eternal minute of blinding passion.

When it was over, she came to lie between me and the wall. With ease, she turned my pliant, nerveless body so that my back was to her chest. Slipping one arm around my waist, she tugged slightly till we fit snugly together as two pieces of a human puzzle. "I love you, my Angel," she whispered, laying a kiss to the back of my neck.

"I love you too, Ice," I mumbled, shivering with warmth as she nuzzled against my neck.

Within seconds, we fell asleep, spooned against one another, spending the first night ever lying in one another’s arms.

My dream had come true.