“Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” I gasp at last.
“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.”
We float together on this boundless sea of our own making, caressed by waves, dissolved by tides.
On the way home, he stops the car outside the post office that is on the way. He looks down significantly at the stamped, addressed envelope that rests between us in the well between our seats.
Sighing, I pick up my college application and run out the door with it, to drop it in the mailbox for the next collection.
The rain begins to fall in earnest. By the time I make it back to the car, I am soaked and freezing.
Once home, with the door shut behind us, he steers me to the bedroom and starts undressing me. Or maybe I started undressing him first. I ca
