Just one Line.

Marielle untied the robe and let is slip off her shoulders onto the carpet. Standing naked and unbothered in the warm room, she took a minute to twist her long blonde hair into a bun that she secured atop her head with a stretchy binder she'd left on her wrist for the purpose. She then knelt down at the edge of the mattress and crawled forward to the right place, then lay down to wriggle for a minute until she felt it a good position for the massage.

There was silence aside from the soft crackle of the candle wicks burning.

"I am ready," Marielle said, "in case you were unsure."

"Sorry about that," Regina said, "I was having a brief conversation with God. I'll try not to let Him distract me any further."
 
No mountain meadow after a good rain smelled so good, no forest floor, no food ever prepared, was as intoxicating as the smell of a Barb aroused.
 
From my WIWAW: My First Year, that I'm about to submit:

But it was a heavy story, with some dark parts and some hard emotions in it. I needed something lighter, fluffier to cleanse my mental palette. What better than a mourning widower? Sometimes I don’t get my own head.
 
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