I wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Why am I doing this again? I hesitate a second longer, but my cock starts to swell and I start undressing. I ...remove all my clothes at the bottom of the stairs and put a pair of pantyhose over my face. I walk up the stairs, knife in hand, and ready to take what is mine.I slowly open the bedroom door and there she is. The television is on, but muted, and I can see her beautiful body. She is sleeping on her stomach with the sheets just coming up over her. There was just enough light filtering through the top of the window where the curtains failed to cloak the room into darkness, already chasing away the night with a promise of a new day. But a day I neither wanted to begin, nor end. She was still lying on her side facing towards me. Her eyes closed, still in sleep, perhaps dreaming, hopefully so. Only then did I notice my hand was still held within hers as I lay on my side facing towards her. Still firmly, yet comfortably entwined, my hand. I look over at my lover, staring at me now with eyes wide. Still tears at the edges, but hints of questioning and the first dribbles of fresh fear creeping in. As I separate the swatch of pins and return the rest of the kit to the nightstand, a gust of lavender reaches my nose. There must be a sprig tucked in a pocket. As it passes I realise how strong the scents of sweat and sex have become in the room, the humid air hanging heavy with my own musk but also the sharp scent of fear-sweat from my. There wasn't carpet on the floors, just a few large rugs covering the concrete floor. The shower was very crudely built, just a couple of knobs and a shower head over a drain with a circular curtain. There was a toilet with a small sink. There was one good size room that included my kitchen and living room space. It was furnished with one small dresser for clothes in the small bedroom just off the living room. I bought a slightly used queen size mattress and frame from a friend. I didn't have.