She understood his plight and allowed him this, though if he'd tried anything else she would have reiterated her dominance. His face was a look of pai... and pleasure, loving being on the receiving end but frustrated at the fact that he couldn't do anything. He had to be patient with her & endure what she had in store for him. She knew what would happen as she continued, she knew his libido too well. She wanted to get him to the point when he really could no longer resist & would take charge &. His eyes focused on what his fingers were doing, caressing her neck and cheek, willing her to understand the depth of feeling he had for her. Wishing he could transfer to her how much he loved her. Change. What is love? he considers now. Loving another means being willing to change those things within and without ourselves, to accept love over pain. For Her he was willing to change. Poetry was the smoke-filled air that made his chest ache, velvet were the sheets that could not house enough. More

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