I write in praise of the solitary act: of not feeling a trespassing tongue forced into one\'s mouth, one\'s breath smothered, nipples crushed against

1 Strange room, from this angle: white door open before me, strange bed, mechanical hum, white lights. There will be stranger rooms to

After they had not made love she pulled the sheet up over her eyes until he was buttoning his shirt: not shyness for their bodies- those they