Eventually it hit her; He was threatened by her past, thatwhich made her what she was and what she offered Him. Why? She served Him welland had given ...im her heart. The thought troubled her. ?A crack in her trust rippled through. A few weeks later, she felt the need to move on. He?d criedand begged. Those familiar words she?d heard so often before, from so manymouths. I need you. I can?t live without you. Blah. The van abruptly halted, smacking her against the bulkhead.She waited for the rear. Tommy was standing right there, eager as ever, to tae me to lunch. Wewalked out the door and down the path to the caf?. He was a gentlemanand helped me with my chair, fumbling a bit, but succeeding in seatingme. He sat next to me simply looking at me. Not a word was exchanged forat least five minutes. I looked across the caf? and there was Sarah, thedirector, and a couple laughing and talking away. I looked back at Tommyand asked, "So what brings you to this place?" It was like openingPandora's. He knew the place quite well. So well, in fact, that he didn't need an interpreter. He knew Hindustani as a language reasonably well; he wrote his letters in Hindustani as a challenge, and had taken a course on Hindustani at a night school. Combined with English, his two languages would allow David to speak to anyone. After two hours, the old man fell asleep on the plane. He didn't wake up again until the plane landed.After David exited from the 747, he looked at the ticket. He would be staying. Without saying a word, he walked up to me, ran his hands up over my stomach and cupped his hands over my breast, bow and all. He bent forward and shoved his face in my deep cleavage, kissing and tasting, my head fell back, my skin feeling tingly. I reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, letting them just hang there and ran my hands up under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his body. After a few moments, he stepped back, pulled down his jeans and slipped his shirt off as I climbed onto the bed.
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