Her makeup had run. She sniffed a couple of times before asking me, “So, do her see my problem?” We sat there in the dark; the only light illumina...ting the room came from the streetlight outside the window. It was muted by the window dressings. I was tired, but still noticed how that light made Leena’s face look like that of an angel. She then brought her fingertips to my face. I didn’t know what was running through her mind, but I did know that she was beautiful and that her fingers touching my. I loved rubbing against her, feeling the perpetual hard-on she had for me. She let me talk her into wearing it sometimes when we went out. We'd shared an especially decadent Saturday afternoon in celebration of our three month anniversary, and when she told me to dress for a night out, the wicked wantonness I'd just displayed in bed overflowed. I still felt nasty. My red cocktail gown fit like skin, its sequins glowed like fire. The towering heels thrust my much used ass out in. All of these are merely dreams that can never be and if I hold onto them then I will never know peace. We will never be together and I know that, with every bit of my being, I know it but God, how do you let it all go? Something so strong and sure? How do you implore your heart of hearts to see reason and allow yourself to heal? How do you tell it to speak with your head and actually listen? To understand that this pain, this appalling heartache, could and will happen again if I continue to do. She took my glass and held out her hands, silently coaxing me off the sofa. I took her hands and she led me to her room (as if I didn't already know). She turned into me, and we kissed. I began to undress her -- I slipped her out of her shirt and bra, kissing her neck as I did. I pulled the skirt she was wearing over her hips, and it hit the floor. She began working on my belt and pants as I pulled off my shirt. Free of our fabric restraints, except for a satin thong that she had on, we.