Danica’s landlady raised an eyebrow at the pile of leaves perched precariously in her tenant’s overskirt, but she didn’t say anything as Danica mumbled something about forgetting her basket, then hurried up the stairs so she could relieve herself of her burden. The leaves ended up in a messy heap on top of her dresser, since there wasn’t anyplace else for them to go. Then she more or less collapsed on the room’s single chair so she could press her fingers to her lips, recalling the touch of Robert’s mouth against hers.
God, she wanted him here, wanted him to push her down into the feather mattress, wanted to feel his body on top of hers, in hers. And that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
At least Saturday night was bath night, so she was allowed the luxury of having the
